


Cabin in the Woods (Title may change)

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bob Newby Lives, Bob Newby is a sweetie, Canon Divergent, Eleven is a good daughter, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Grumpy Jim "Chief" Hopper, Hopper is a softie, Joyce is a good friend, Minor Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: Chief Jim Hopper is less than thrilled when he's reminded there's a Fed coming in to do some forensics training for the Hawkins PD. But he changes his tune a little when the FBI agent turns out to be a woman. Maybe there's more to life than being the single father of a telekinetic teenager. As the saying goes, stranger things have happened. Especially in Hawkins.





	1. Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon-divergent in that Bob Newby is alive and well. Consider it post-S2, for time period.

Hawkins Police Chief Jim Hopper was trying his best to enjoy his coffee and contemplation. Technically, it was long past morning. In fact, it was Wednesday afternoon, but since the morning had been one fresh and irritating hell after another, he figured he was allowed some leeway on the whole “morning” thing. He picked up his coffee mug, leaned back in his chair and sighed, appreciating the blessed silence.

It was a really nice minute and a half.

Flo knocked once then opened his office door. “Your two o’clock is here.”

“You understand that when I said you should knock when the door is closed, I also mean you should wait until I tell you to come in, right?” he asked.

Flo ignored his comment. “You coming out or am I sending in?”

“Who the hell is my two o’clock?”

“Field agent,” Flo said. “From the FBI office in Indianapolis? For the training? You agreed to this twice last week.”

He probably had. It sounded familiar, though that didn’t make it any less annoying. “Refresh my memory.”

It was Flo’s turn to sigh. “You got a call two weeks ago from the Commissioner, who said that the FBI office in Indianapolis was sending a field agent to teach everyone here about the new forensics lab and the new rules for preserving a crime scene so that we don’t have another repeat of the Lambert’s house when Callahan tracked mud all over the –and I quote – goddamn carpet like some kind of excited golden retriever.”

Hopp ran a hand over his face. He remembered the Lambert debacle, especially the ass-chewing he got from said commissioner about the mess. It hadn’t really affected the case, which turned out to be a simple B&E. Doug Cafferty, the Lambert’s middle daughter’s boyfriend, got drunk one night and decided to break into his girlfriend’s room so he could read her diary to confirm whether or not she was cheating on him. She wasn’t. She even though the whole thing was “super romantic.” He thought of his own daughter, Jane, who still preferred being called El or Ellie, and silently prayed that Mike Wheeler would never try something like that so that Hopp didn’t have to kill him. Well, maybe not kill. Maybe.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said. “And I thought you said the 16th.”

Flo shook her head. “The sixth. Out or In, Chief?”

“In, goddamnit. But give me ten minutes, ok, Flo?” He got up and began hurriedly going through the papers on his desk, trying to find the memo about the field agent so he could familiarize himself with what was happening.

Flo cleared her through and Hopper looked up. She was holding out a file. “I took the liberty,” she said.

Hopper closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long breath. Then he opened them, took the file and said, “Thank you, Florence.”

“Don’t mention it, Chief.” She turned to leave the office. As she walked out the door, she called back, “By the way, I got the name wrong.”

Hopper looked up from the file. “What? What do you mean you got the name wrong?”

“You’ll see!” She closed the door behind her.

Hopper hurriedly scanned the papers in the file. Special Agent Frank Stone, Indianapolis Field office, forensics specialist, blah blah blah. He mumbled to himself as he continued to read while simultaneously straightening his uniform and hair. “Fingerprinting database… DNA fingerprinting? What the fuck is DNA fingerprinting? A fingerprint is a finger print… Jesus Christ, I’m a cop not a scientist… Fucking Feds.” He shook his head and closed the file, fixed a few more things on his desk and kicked a few things under it that he hadn’t bothered to put away.

He had just sat back down to have more coffee when Flo knocked again. He took a quick sip, wiped his moustache and opened the file again. “Yeah, come on in.” He looked down at the file before they opened the door, pretending to be engrossed.

He heard the door open but didn’t look up. “This is our Chief of Police, James Hopper,” Flo said, clearly speaking to the agent.

Hopper waited a beat before looking up. When he did, he got up so fast, he knocked his coffee cup over, right onto the file. He grabbed the papers without thinking and proceeded to spatter the spilled liquid all over the front of his uniform. “Goddamnit,” he spat out before he could stop himself, then quickly added, “Sorry, Jesus, sorry about that, uh, Agent.”

The agent stifled a smile. “I’ve heard worse.”

Flo didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “Chief, this is Special Agent Frances Stone.”

“Frankie,” the woman corrected. “I go by Frankie.” She extended her hand to Hopper.

He took it. Her grip was firm. “Special Agent,” he said. “Thank you, uh, for coming out to Hawkins.”

She smiled. “Thank you for having me. I know a visit from a fed isn’t always welcome.”

“Have a seat,” he said. He gestured to a chair and waited until she was seated before he resumed his own seat. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Please,” she said.

“How do you take it?”

“Light, with two sugars.”

Hopper looked at Flo, who rolled her eyes before saying, “Light, two sugars. I’ll get you another, too, Chief.” She left the office, rather pointedly leaving the door open.

“So, uh, Special Agent Stone, did you come straight in from Indianapolis?” He was trying to recover from the surprise of Frank being Frankie.

“From Lafayette, actually.” She made herself comfortable in the chair, crossing her legs. “I was there for most of last week.”

Hopper took in her appearance with the practiced eye of a long-time cop. She was wearing a grey pinstripe suit and a deep green blouse. He didn’t know much about women’s fashions, but the suit looked expensive, as did her shoes. Her dark hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore light makeup, probably in an effort to play down her attractiveness. Those particular affectations hadn’t really worked, a thought he quickly dismissed.

“Lafayette,” he repeated. “That would be Bob Wallace’s house. How’s he doing?”

She smiled a little wider. “He’s an asshole.”

Hopper laughed in surprise. “Is that an FBI term?”

“Nope,” she said. “And from what I gathered while I was there, it’s a pretty universal observation. He’s a good cop; so are his men. But he wasn’t happy about taking instruction from a woman and he didn’t really bother to hide it.”

“You won’t have that problem here,” Hopper said, just as Flo came in with the two coffees in her hands and a manila folder tucked under her arm. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed that I take orders from a woman pretty well.”

“Most of the time,” Flo said. She handed Frankie one cup, then placed the other on Hopper’s desk. “Try not to spill that one. I sent Callahan to your house for a new uniform.”

“Call him back,” Hopper said. “It’s already after two and I have to leave—have to, Flo, don’t let me forget—by 3:30. And get me something to clean up this mess, please.” He looked down at the now-soggy, stained papers. “And do we have copies…”

Flo handed him the folder. “Three of them. Here’s one set. Anything else, Chief?” She also handed him a bunch of folded paper towels that she’d had in her pocket.

“No, thank you, Flo.” He sounded gruffer than he actually felt. “You can go. And close the door this time”—he raised his voice just a bit before finishing the sentence—“before Powell falls over in his chair from trying to see inside my damn office!”

There was a small commotion from the outer office. It sounded suspiciously like the wheels of an office chair moving quickly. Flo nodded and left the room, this time closing the door behind her.

“Sorry about that,” Hopper said.

“It’s to be expected,” she said. “I generally cause a bit of a stir. I try to be clear about my name and I’ve asked my secretary to do the same, but most of the time it still gets written down as Frank.”

“Yeah,” Hopper agreed. “Ever thought about changing it?”

“And lose my tactical advantage? Absolutely not.” She sipped her coffee, then placed the mug on his desk. “You recovered quickly. And thank you for standing when I walked in. It wasn’t necessary, but it was very polite.”

“My mother raised me right,” he said. “I’m trying to teach my daughter that manners are important.” He pointed to a framed photo on his desk.

“She’s lovely,” Frankie said. “Jane, right? You took custody of her last year.”

“How did you…” Hopper began, unable to keep a note of anger from his voice.

Frankie held up her hand. “FBI, Chief Hopper,” she said. “We did a complete background check on you and everyone else in the department.”

He relaxed again. “Right. Should have realized that. And please, Special Agent, call me Jim.”

“Frankie. Though I will ask you to refer to me as Agent when I’m teaching,” she said.

“Of course,” he said. “Speaking of…”

“I thought we could begin tomorrow, around 11am,” she said. “You mentioned that you needed to leave here by 3:30, and I would like some time to get settled. The office rented a small house for me, since Hawkins doesn’t have a hotel and I prefer to stay close to the station I’ll be working with so I can get to know the town. I’d like to find it and get unpacked.”

He thought for a moment. “11am is fine. How long will you be here?”

“Right now the plan is to keep me in town for about two weeks,” she said.

“Two weeks?” Hopper asked. “That seems like an awfully long time for forensics training for three cops.”

She smiled again. Even with the strict bun and the light makeup, she was damn attractive, and the non-cop part of Hopper’s mind noted her lack of a wedding ring. “Relax,” she said. “I won’t be in your hair much. The instruction will take a couple of days this week, then a refresher the following week. The rest of the time, I’ll be occupied with my own work, as well as a day to return to Lafayette for their refresher.”

“What kind of work are you doing while you’re here?” Hopper asked. “Because if it involves Hawkins, I’d like to know. We’ve had enough trouble with outsiders--no offense--causing trouble behind our backs.”

“It doesn’t,” she said.

He waited a moment, but she didn’t elucidate. “Right,” he said. “Above my pay grade?”

She laughed. “You make it sound so suspicious. It’s paperwork and case studies, Chief, sorry, Jim. I’m on semi-sabbatical from fieldwork so I can concentrate on that. The Bureau is paying for my doctorate in criminology. Teaching is part of that.”

He considered that. “A PhD is definitely above my pay grade,” he said.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re probably better with a gun than I am,” she said. “Your marksmanship record is impressive.”

He swelled with a little bit of pride at her words. “We do have a range here,” he said. “Anytime you’d like to use it, you’re welcome to. I’d be happy to give you some pointers.”

“I’d be happy to take any pointers you’d like to give me, Jim.”

There was another pause in the conversation. Under any other circumstances, he’d have taken her words for flirtation. He tried to get a read on her, but her face was impassive, her expression the same friendly smile she’d worn for most of the conversation. She was as cool as a goddamn cucumber, that was certain.

He was trying to think of what the hell to say next when the buzzing of the intercom on his desk saved him. He pressed the button. “Yeah, Flo, what is it?”

“School called,” the secretary said. “There's been a problem. It's not Jane.”

Hopper let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Why me? Send Powell or Callahan.”

“They asked for you,” she said.

He heaved a sigh. “For Christ’s sake. Fine, I’m on my way.”

He stood up from his desk; Frankie stood as well. “Sorry about this,” he said.

“Duty calls,” she said. “I understand completely. If I have any questions before tomorrow morning, I have your home number.” She extended her hand. “It was a pleasure, Jim. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

He took it, again admiring her firm grip. “11 am sharp,” he said. “And I’ll bring coffee from the diner. Thanks for not insulting the brew.”

She laughed. “Been in a lot of police departments,” she said. “And believe me, the Bureau coffee is way worse.” She gave him a quick wink, then left.


	2. The Trouble with Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How hard can it be to enjoy a nice, quiet dinner with two teenage girls? A relaxing evening at home turns into a question and answer session when Hopper accidentally leaves Agent Stone's background file on the coffee table. What a night to be without his whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon-divergent in the following ways: Bob Newby is alive and well, Jane calls Hopper "Dad," Jane is attending school, and the events of S3 are being generally ignored for the purposes of this story.
> 
> Additional additions/changes: Jane's middle name is Eloise
> 
> Additions to these notes will be at the beginning of each chapter.

As it turned out, the situation at the school was pretty amusing, once he found out what it was. Apparently, Dustin Henderson (one of El’s closest friends) had built a replica spaceship complete with firing sound effects that he’d rigged up thanks to an old roll of pop-gun caps. He’d set the thing up on the playground after lunch so he could show it off to his friends. But something had gone wrong. Instead of the percussive caps going off one at a time in five-second intervals the way Dustin thought they would, they starting going off one after the other. Cue screaming and running of an entire middle school recess yard. A few kids had gotten hurt—just scrapes and bumps but it was going to be enough to piss off a few overprotective parents—and the whole school had gone into a brief panic, complete with fire alarms being set off (though thankfully no fire department had actually been deployed). 

Poor Dustin got dragged into the Principal Russ Coleman’s office and threatened with suspension for bringing a bomb onto school property. Mr. Clarke, the science teacher, also got pulled into it, though thankfully the man was entirely on Dustin’s side. When Hopper walked into the room, the kid was so flustered that he blurted out, “I swear to god I wasn’t trying to blow up the school, Chief! I like school! I had no idea that old Armstrong’s mixture would go off like that!”

Hopper didn’t know shit about Armstrong or his mixture. He knew Dustin, though, and the kid was telling the truth—he did like school, especially science. It took some negotiating and a lot of “in Dustin’s defense…” on the parts of both Hopper and Clarke, but eventually the principal agreed that a true suspension wasn’t necessary, provided Mrs. Henderson kept Dustin out of school tomorrow so it “looked good.” It probably helped that Hopper briefly pulled the principal into the outer office for a private chat about the night Hopper had found Coleman’s car parked in the woods with Coleman and definitely-not-Mrs.-Coleman half-dressed in the backseat. Hopper had kept that quiet, something he didn’t have to do, he reminded the principal. OK, so maybe he exaggerated the length of the statute of limitations on indecent exposure, but he was the Chief of Police, for Christ’s sake. It’s not like Coleman was going to go check. 

In the end, Hopper assured the principal that he would take Dustin right home and deal with Mrs. Henderson himself. There was also going to be discussion about the kinds of science experiments that shouldn’t come to school. By the time he and the curly-haired kid walked out of the office, school had already been let out. 

Ell was waiting in the hallway. “Hi, Dad,” she said. “Are you arresting Dustin?”

“I didn't do anything!” Dustin protested. “Just because stupid Heather Brock freaked out and….” His voice trailed off when he realized Ell was barely holding back laughter. He rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, yeah, real nice. Tease the suspended kid.”

“You’re not suspended,” Hopper said. “You’re probably not even going to get grounded. Now get your bike and we’ll put it in the back of the Blazer. I’ll drop you at your house on our way home.”

“What are you gonna tell my mom?” Dustin asked.

“Are you gonna keep playing with old explosives?”

Dustin blushed. “No, sir.”

“Then don’t worry about it. Now get your bike and get in the truck.” He turned to his daughter. “Where’s the rest of the party?” That’s what they called themselves—Dustin, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, Maxine Mayfield and his own Ell.

“Will had a doctor’s appointment,” Ell said as she got into the front seat of the Blazer. “Mike and Lucas went to get snacks for Friday. Max has to fix a wheel on her skateboard, but she said she’d come over later for dinner and to study. Is that ok?”

“Sure, if you’re actually going to do homework and not just listen to Madonna and drive your old man crazy.” Hopper waited for Dustin to scramble into the backseat before taking his own place behind the wheel.

Ell rolled her eyes as Hopper started the truck. “Yes, dad.”

Hopper pointed his finger at her. “What did I say about rolling your eyes?”

She frowned. “That it’s disrespectful.”

“And?”

“That I shouldn’t do it.” She huffed out a small breath. “Sorry.”

He reached over to ruffle her hair, which she pretended to hate but Hopper knew better. “Homework at the kitchen table for at least an hour. Then you two can go to your room and do girl things.”

She beamed at him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Don’t forget about Friday, Ell,” Dustin said from the back. “It’s still ok, right, Chief?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” The kids had been planning it for weeks. Some new Dungeons and Dragons thing had come out, and Will had been working on a brand new campaign. It was due to begin that weekend. Joyce was going to make a cake, and Bob Newby, Joyce’s boyfriend, had promised the kids some special lights from his job at Radio Shack to help create the right mood. Ell had been looking forward to it, chattering to Hopper about her character and the campaign and all her treasures. He only understood about 10, maybe 15% of it, but it made her so happy, he just loved listening to her.

He glanced at his daughter. Ell had taken a book from her backpack and was reading. She read all the time; it made him so proud. She loved books, and Hopper was glad to have had a hand in that. He read to her every night, when he’d first taken her in. And while he doubted she’d ever tell her friends about it, she still asked him to read to her most nights. He smiled.

She looked up from her book. “What, Dad?”

“Nothing, Ellie.” He kept smiling, though. 

When they got to Dustin’s, Ell stayed in the car to read while Hopper went inside to talk to Mrs. Henderson. It didn’t take long. The woman was so grateful for Hopper’s intervention that she didn’t put up any kind of argument, though she did agree to keep a closer eye on her son’s inventions from now on. Hopper doubted it--Mrs. Henderson’s habit of indulging her son was well-known, but maybe it would be a start. 

Hopper and Ell got back to the cabin and Ell made a beeline for her room as soon as they arrived, but he stopped her. “What did we talk about this morning?”

With a little grunt of annoyance, she turned back to look at him. “That I have to do my chores if I want to enjoy my…” She stopped for a second; sometimes it still took her a second to remember how to use new words. “Privileges.”

He nodded. “Such as Max coming over for dinner and studying. So that means putting away your clothes and putting away the books that are all over this house before she gets here since I didn’t make you do it all last night before bed. OK?”

She scrunched up her face a little, but nodded. “OK. Can I keep the books in my room?”

“You can keep three books in your room at a time. That’s still the deal.” He implemented that rule when he realized that past spring that she hadn’t slept for almost three days because she had been reading so voraciously that she started a new book the second she finished the previous one. Sure, he had been a little impressed that she’d read six novels during that time, but still. Since then, most of the books stayed in the living room on the shelf he’d built for her. At least, they were supposed to--at the moment, they were all over the house. Ell had tried to explain to him that she had a system--there was a car book, a read-at-school-book, a bathroom book, a living room book for when Hopper was watching something she didn’t care about but she still wanted to be around him, a porch book, and endless variations on that theme. He told her that they were all bookshelf books. He did let her keep the bathroom book and the car book, though. Those made sense. 

He changed out of his uniform while she did her chores, then got a beer and sat down on the couch to read through the file he’d brought home with him--the one on Special Agent Frances Stone. There were more papers in the second file Flo had given him, likely because she hadn’t wanted to spoil the surprise. Hopper shook his head. Flo could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. 

He started with her bio, which was impressive. Undergrad criminal justice degree from the University of California at Irvine, then a Master’s in criminology from the University of Maryland at College Park. She did four years working with the Baltimore police department as an assistant forensic technician before being accepted into the FBI’s training program at Quantico. From there, she worked her way up through the ranks and worked on a few high-profile cases, including the HIllside Strangler. “Damn,” he said out loud. “She’s seen some shit.”

“Who?”

He hadn’t realized that Ell was back in the living room. “Work stuff, Ellie.”

“About a woman?” Ell walked over to the couch and tried to read over his shoulder. “Is she a bad woman?”

Hopper closed the file. “No, honey,” he said. “She’s a teacher, actually. She’s in town to try to teach us old cops some new tricks.”

“Cops have teachers?” she asked, as she returned to putting books on the shelves.

“Sometimes,” he said. “New stuff happens in law enforcement all the time, and sometimes police departments have specialists come in to explain what’s going on so we have better ways to fight crime.”

She nodded. “So that means she’s smart.”

He nodded back. “Very smart.”

‘That’s good.” She turned her attention back to the books, but added, “It’s important for women to be smart.”

He smiled at that. “Yes, it is. That’s why I don’t get super mad when you leave your books all over the house, because I know you’re smart, and books will help you get smarter.”

She grinned. “Even Judy Blume?” Ell had only recently discovered Blume’s books, and she was tearing through every one she could get her hands on.

“According to you, especially Judy Blume.” He got up to take a look at her work so far. There were only a few books left in the pile; the rest were arranged on the shelf according to Ell’s personal Dewey Decimal System. “You gathered the books from everywhere?”

“Yes,” she said. She moved a few books from one place to another before shelving the final three and standing up. “What’s for dinner?”

“I guess I should go figure that out while you put away your laundry.” He took his beer to the kitchen while Ell went to her room. “Any requests?” he called out.

“Spaghetti!” came the answer.

Good, Hopper thought. That was easy. 

The pasta was in the water and Hopper was doctoring up the jarred sauce when he heard someone coming up the porch steps. Before Ell could make a run for the front door, he yelled, “Are all your clothes put away?”

“Almost, but…”

He wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “But nothing. I’ll get it. Finish up.”

He opened the door as Max was knocking. The redhead gave him a smile. “Hi, Chief. Ell said I could come over.”

“One day,” he said, stepping aside so she could come in. “You two are going to ask me before you agree on plans with each other.”

Max chuckled. “Is she in her room?”

“Yeah, but she’s not done with her chores yet. Sit down. You want a soda or anything?”

“Sure.” Max put her skateboard by the roor and sat on the couch, picking up a random magazine to leaf through while she waited. 

“Coke ok?”

“New or old?” she asked. 

Hopper scoffed at her. “Old. Who even drinks new Coke?”

Max grinned. “Totally.” She returned her attention to the magazine, then looked up quickly. “Oh, um, yes, please. Thank you.”

Hopper nodded at her. “You’re welcome.”

He got two cokes out of the fridge, plus another beer for himself. Eleven only allowed him two a night. That was a compromise, since she originally wanted to allow him no beers--a health class a couple of weeks before had clued her in to the dangers of alcoholism and it had scared her so badly that she ran around the cabin that night, frantically emptying every single bottle and can she could find. Hopper had come home to a pile of empty cans and bottles, and it was only the tears on her face and the way she threw herself at him that kept him from losing his mind. They had a good long talk about moderation and wasting money until they agreed on their halfway happy point. 

She put her foot down about the whiskey, though. So he kept a bottle at Joyce’s. Friends don’t lie, but sins of omission were perfectly ok between parent and child, Jim reasoned. She’d said no whiskey in their house, after all. She hadn’t said anything about other people’s houses.

When he went back into the living room with the sodas, he found his daughter and her friend with the FBI file in their hands. Before he could open his mouth, both girls began talking excitedly and simultaneously. “Is this who you were talking about? Is she really in the FBI? Does she have a gun? Has she ever killed anybody? Is this like a cop? Girls can be cops? What’s forensics?”

Hopper put the sodas down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He raised his voice a little to be heard over the excited chattering. “Stop! Enough!”

He pointed to his daughter first. “Are you supposed to touch my work things?”

Ell pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Max was already reading it.”

Hopper felt the question And if Max jumped off a bridge… teetering at the very tip of his tongue, but stopped himself. Being a dad was fine. In fact, it was amazing. But sounding like his own father was something entirely different. So instead he turned to Max. “And didn’t your parents teach you not to look at other people’s things?”

Max shrugged. “It wasn’t like it was hidden or anything. It was right here on the table.”

Ell, catching a bit of confidence off her friend, said, “You should put your things away if you don’t want people to look at them.”

He attempted a stern look. “Nobody likes a smart-ass, Ell.”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s a smart-ass?”

“Every single one of your friends,” Hopper half-muttered.

Her face brightened and she smiled. “I like smart-asses!”

Max laughed outright at that and Hopper himself couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Ell’s enthusiasm was just so damn contagious. “OK, word of the day. A smart-ass is a person who acts like they know everything and sasses back at their father.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“It’s right enough.” He took the folder and papers from the girls’ hands. “This is work stuff. But,” he added before they could start talking again. “If you set the table and make a salad while I finish dinner, you are allowed to ask five questions about what you read while we eat.”

“Each?” Max asked.

“Total,” he said. 

“Six questions,” Ell said. When he gave her a quizzical look, she explained, “That’s three each. That’s fair and even and we can take turns,” She gave him a look that clearly added, which you say is important and I am trying to do what you say. Her expressions were very eloquent.

He knew he was defeated. Besides, how bad could six questions be? “Fine. Grab your sodas and let’s go in the kitchen.” 

The girls did their tasks diligently and perfectly, causing him to realize that he might have made a tactical error with the questions compromise. But it was too late now. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against the combined wills of two smart -- and smart-ass -- teenage girls. He lamented the lack of whiskey.

Three bites into dinner, it began. Ell began. “Girls can be cops?”

“She’s not a cop, Ell,” Max said. “She’s an FBI Agent. That’s, like, way more important than a cop.”

“Excuse me, they’re both important,” Hopper said. “And, sure, girls can be cops. You’ve seen Cagney and Lacey.”

“That’s on TV,” Ell said. “TV shows aren’t real.”

“Right, I said that, didn’t I? The answer is still yes. Girls -- I should say women -- Women can be cops. But it’s harder for them because…”

“Men are jerks?” Max suggested.

He gave her a look. “I wouldn’t have put it that way but yeah, that’s basically it.”

“Gloria Steinem says that women have to work twice as hard and be twice as good in order to be thought of as being as good as men in the workplace,” Max said matter-of-factly. When both Hopper and Eleven looked at her in surprise, she added, “What? Mom gets Ms. magazine. And we learned about Gloria Steinem in our current affairs class.”

“I still don’t understand why a fish would need a bicycle,” Eleven said. 

“They don’t, Ell, that’s the point,” Max explained. “Women don’t need men.”

Ell looked confused. “But I like men. Dad’s a man. And Mike is going to be a man, and so is Dustin, and Will, and Lucas, and Steve and Jonathan are kind of already men, and…”

“Yeah, you can like them, but we don’t NEED them,” Max stressed. “I mean, we need then for some things, like…”

“Oh my god, stop,” Hopper begged. “Back to the questions, please. Max’s turn.”

“How did she become an FBI agent?” Max asked.

“By working her ass off,” Hopp said. “Four years of college at one school, then two or three more years at another school to get another degree. She did an internship--that’s like a job but you don’t get paid--with a police department, and then she got recruited by a place called Quantico, which is a special school run by the FBI.” He looked at his daughter. “FBI means Federal Bureau of Investigation. FBI agents are like special cops that protect the whole country, not just their towns. After she graduated from that school, she had to work her way up through the ranks to become a Special Agent. She studied a lot of science and had to have really, really good grades to be able to do what she does now.”

Ell and Max both nodded solemnly and Hopper had a feeling that they were going to pay a lot more attention to their homework tonight. So that was good, at least. “OK, Ell, your turn.”

“What’s a Hillside Strangler?”

“A bad man,” Hopper said. “A very, very bad men. He killed a lot of people in California, and it took the local cops and the state cops and the FBI to catch him.” He didn’t add that the Hillside Strangler had tortured, raped and killed only women. Ell had enough nightmares already. “Special Agent Stone helped with that.”

“Wow,” Ell said. 

“Very wow,” Hopper said. “I was impressed by that, too.”

“Are you intimidated by her?” Max asked.

“What? No!” Hopper sputtered. 

“Gloria Steinem says that men are intimidated by strong women,” Max said. “And that they’re even more intimidated if the woman is also attractive..”

“She’s very attractive,” Ell said. Clearly, the girls had seen the photograph in the file. “‘Attractive’ is like “pretty’ but some people say that when they mean someone is more than pretty or, like, especially pretty.” Something seemed to occur to her then, and she looked at her father. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

“She is, like, super pretty,” Max said. She also looked at Hopper. “Right, Chief?”

“Do those count as questions?” he said.

Mac elbowed Eleven. “He’s avoiding the question. That means yes.”

“Avoiding questions means yes?” Eleven had a very thoughtful look on her face.

“Oh my god,” Hopper said again, regretting he’d ever come up with this idea. “Yes, fine, she’s very pretty. Very attractive. Next question, please.”

“Can we meet her?” Max asked.

Hopper hadn’t really thought about that. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “She’s going to be pretty busy while she’s here. But I can ask her, I guess, and maybe you can come down to the station and…”

Eleven began bouncing up and down in her chair excitedly. “Can she come to Career Day? Please, dad, please can she come to Career Day?”

“Oh my god, yes, please, Chief?” Max was also excited. “Can you ask her? That would be so cool!”

“I don’t know if it’s really appropriate for me to ask her…” he started, but he was interrupted by both girls jumping out of their chairs and running over to his side of the table. Each grabbed him by an arm and began begging.

“Please, Chief? It would be so cool and women hardly ever come to Career Day so we have nobody to look up to and, and try to work hard to be like,” Max said.

His daughter hugged his arm and looked up at his face. “Please please please? Daddy, please? For me? Please, daddy?”

He caved almost immediately at that, but tried to save face. “Oh, so it’s ‘Daddy’ now, is it? And who taught you how to do that thing with your eyes?”

“Nancy,” Ell said. 

“She’s not allowed to sit for you anymore.”

Eleven smiled. “That means yes!” She hugged her father.

“Oh my god, yes!!” Max hugged him too. “Thank you, thank you!”

Hopper laughed; he couldn’t help it. He gave each girl a one-armed squeeze and said, “I’ll ask her, but no promises. Fair enough?”

“You should tell her she’s pretty,” Eleven suggested. “Complimenting people is a nice thing to do. If you tell her she’s pretty, she will probably say yes.”

Hopper, to his utter chagrin, felt his skin get a little warm with embarrassment at the idea. “Let’s just finish dinner now, ok?”

As the girls went back to their seats, Max elbowed Eleven again. Ell nodded sagely at her friend. “Avoiding the question,” she said. “He totally thinks she’s pretty.”

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. That whiskey would have come in real handy right about now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and by all means offer concrit! It's a writer's lifeblood, after all.


	3. Coffee and Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning coffee ends up giving Hopper a couple of new things to contemplate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I started spelling El as "Ell," but now I am apparently sticking with it. Since Hopper often calls her Ellie, I think it works.

Hopper was up early the following morning. He was outside on the porch in his bathrobe and boxers, coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other. Every once in a while, he heard sounds from inside the cabin, but he didn’t worry. Ell liked to take her time getting ready for school and besides, she knew all about her dad and his coffee and contemplation. 

At the moment, he was contemplating the events of the previous evening. After agreeing to try to get the FBI agent to come to Hawkins Middle School Career Day, the girls had finished their dinner and gone into Ell’s room to study. He’d originally intended to make them do homework where he could see them, but since he wasn’t interested in more questions, he let them go. To his surprise, he didn’t hear the sounds of Ell’s small new stereo. When he went to her room at around 8:30pm to tell them it was time for him to take Max home, the two girls were still on the floor, surrounded by schoolbooks and still busy with homework. Jesus, he’d thought to himself at the time. I should work with female feds more often.

That thought returned to him now. He still had several hours before 11am and his next meeting with Frankie Stone. He’d read through more of her file before falling asleep. She’d had a hell of a career so far, and with her PhD in process, it seemed like there was no where for her to go but up. He hadn’t been lying to Max when he’d said he wasn’t intimidated by the woman, but he sure as shit was impressed. He had to admit, he was looking forward to the training. Even if what she taught them was unlikely to be of much use for a small town department--hopefully, anyway--it was important knowledge. He hoped her credentials and her expertise would put a little bit of the fear of god into Powell and Callahan. They were good cops, both of them, but they weren’t always the sharpest knives in the drawer. They could use some new blood to shake things up.

She’d be good for the kids too, he knew. Max was right--the girls in Hawkins didn’t have a lot of female role models outside of teachers and a couple of local nurses. Small towns didn’t exactly encourage successful women or have much to do with them. Most of the girls who went off to college got jobs in Indianapolis or Chicago or beyond. They didn’t come back to Hawkins to bestow their wisdom on the local girls. Frankie Stone would be a shock to the system, in a really good way. 

She’d been something of a shock to his system, if he was honest with himself. It never crossed his mind that Special Agent Stone would be a woman--chauvinistic, small-town thinking on his part, he knew. Sure, he’d met female cops before--there were a few on the job in New York, when he was there. But he had never met a female fed, much less one who’d helped find and arrest a goddamn serial killer and was working toward a doctoral degree.

The way she looked was a bit of a surprise too. Plain makeup and strict bun be damned, Frankie Stone was a beautiful woman. His mind went back to her comment about the gun range. I’d be happy to take any pointers you’d like to give me, Jim. Hopper had been around a lot of women in his time and garnered something of a reputation in town because of it. That didn’t happen anymore, not since taking in Ell and becoming a father again. Raising a teenage telekinetic took all of his free time and he didn’t regret it. Shit, he loved every minute of it. Ell was the light of his life, a feeling he never expected to have after losing Sarah. Taking care of Ell, making a life for her, didn’t leave much room for dating, though he could barely call what he used to do dating. He grinned into his coffee cup. Raising a daughter didn’t leave much time for that, either. 

So having to spend his working hours in the company of a beautiful FBI agent for a few days wasn’t exactly a trial. Yes, it would be business. Law enforcement training was important and serious, and science was far from his strong suit. But she seemed willing enough to take up his offer to use the range and if she wanted to join him afterwards for a beer or two to say thanks, well, he could think of plenty of worse ways to spend his time.

He heard the pipes rattle. Ell was in the shower. He’d head inside soon to start breakfast, but for now, he was enjoying the quiet morning. Indian summer had come late to Hawkins, and the October morning was unseasonably warm and pleasant. There wouldn’t be too many more days like this. Soon, the temperatures would drop, which reminded him that he was going to need to take Ell shopping for winter clothes. Maybe he could pawn that task off on Joyce or even Nancy Wheeler. Shopping was also not his strong suit. 

His contemplation was disrupted by a sound to the left of the cabin. At first, he assumed it was a deer, but then he realized the noises were too regular to be the movement of an animal. Nobody else lived out here. It had been a while since he’d felt that his daughter was in constant danger, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the sounds or the fact that his gun was inside the cabin, in his bedroom. He looked quickly around the porch and spotted the ax he had been using to chop firewood. He put down his coffee cup and lifted the weapon. He scanned the area. “This is private property,” he called out. “So do yourself a favor and get the hell off my land.”

“Stand down, Chief,” came a voice. “I’m unarmed.” Frankie Stone, her hands up in front of her body, walked into view.

He put the ax down. “Mind if I ask what you’re doing on my property at 7 in the morning, Special agent?” he asked. 

“Well, in my defense, I didn’t know it was your property.” She was walking toward the steps to the porch, dressed in an FBI sweatshirt with the collar cut out and a pair of running shorts. She was wearing sneakers and her hair was in a loose ponytail. Her face was a little flushed and she was slightly out of breath. It looked good on her.

He pushed that thought away, though not before he tightened the tie of his bathrobe to make sure he didn’t look like a complete slob. “That doesn’t exactly answer my question.”

“I’m staying in a cabin about a mile to the west,” she said. “I was on a run.”

“The old Pierce place?” he asked. “Why are you staying all the way the hell out here?”

“I requested someplace quiet, removed a little from the town proper,” she said. She was at the bottom of the steps now, leaning on the bannister. “When they told me there was a small cabin in the woods available if I wanted it, I said yes. I didn’t realize we were neighbors.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we are.”

Neither one of them said anything for a moment or two. Hopper was trying and failing not to notice her long legs, and he felt a little odd trying to keep his eyes trained on her face. She looked unperturbed, just smiling up at him from the bottom of the steps. God, she had a great smile, open and easy and just a little too smart, which was exactly the kind of smile Hopper liked. And he was pretty damn sure she knew it. 

She bit her bottom lip for a second, then that smile grew a little wider. “Don’t suppose you’d like to invite a neighbor in for a cup of coffee?”

“My daughter is inside getting ready for school,” he said. “If you’re ok with coffee on the porch, I can go inside and make you a cup. Light, two sugars, right?”

“Good memory,” she said, coming up the stairs. 

“Have a seat,” he said, putting his cup on the railing. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes.” Putting on some goddamn pants.

The bathroom door was still closed and he could hear the water running. Hopper grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the pile next to his bed, dressed quickly and then made a second cup of coffee in the kitchen. He went back out onto the porch and almost dropped the cup. Frankie was using the railing to stretch her legs and Jesus Christ, why did shorts have to be so short?

He cleared his throat. She turned and put her leg back down. “If I don’t stretch, I get a charley horse,” she said with that same easy smile. “Sorry about that.”

She didn’t look the least bit sorry. “Yeah, no problem,” he said. He handed her the cup. “So you’re a jogger, I guess?”

She sipped the coffee and made a contented sound. She sat on the porch bench. “Not really. I run on different terrains to keep in training,” she explained. “It was something we did at Quantico. You never know where you’ll be when you have to chase somebody down. So I run every time I’m in a new place. It helps keep me in shape, but that’s just a bonus.”

Hopper did not look down at his own gut, which he knew was more prominent than he would like, but he did alter his posture a little as he leaned against the railing so it wasn’t quite as noticeable, or at least he hoped it wasn’t. “So what happens when you catch up to whoever you’re chasing?”

“I remind myself that I can’t beat the hell out of them for making me run in the first place.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I don’t always stop myself in time to avoid knocking them down. It makes it easier to get the cuffs on.”

Hopper chuckled. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

“How long have you been a cop?” she asked. 

“I’ve been chief here since ‘79,” he said. “Before that, I was a homicide detective in New York City. Before that, Vietnam.”

He watched her do some quick calculations in her head, then her eyes widened for a brief second. “You were in the city in ‘77.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Wasn’t my case, though. I knew John Falotico, though. Hell of a cop. Glad it was him who caught the son of a bitch.” They were talking about David Berkowitz, the “Son of Sam” serial killer who terrorized New York City from July 1976 to August 1977. 

“I worked with John Douglas,” she said. “He interviewed Falotico. He spoke very highly of him.”

“Douglas?” Hopper asked. “He’s the guy who started interviewing serial killers, right? Trying to figure out what makes them tick?”

It was her turn to nod. “I went with him on a couple of those interviews. Figured out pretty quickly that it wasn’t my cup of poison tea. I give him credit for how he handles himself. I wanted a shower and a shotgun within the first ten minutes.”

“But you worked the Hillside Strangler case.” 

“Not on the ground,” she said. “I consulted with their forensics team, helped them figure out a few things. Catching the two of them, though, that was all LA and Bellingham.”

Hopper had read her file, and he suspected she was seriously downplaying her role by giving all the credit to the local police. Most of the feds he’d met were only too happy to take credit for the hard work of state and city cops. It made him like her more. Not that he really needed the help, but there it was. “I’m not used to humility from a fed,” he smiled. 

“I’m not used to generosity from a cop.” She held her coffee cup up. “Looks like we both were wrong. So here’s to getting to know each other the right way.”

He leaned forward to touch his mug to hers. “No prejudices, no preconceived notions. I can drink to that.”

She stood up, draining the rest of her coffee and handing him the mug. “On that note, I should head back. I need to shower and get ready for the day. I thought you and I could talk about the training at 11, and we could get started around 12:30. I’m having lunch brought in for you all.”

He put both mugs on the railing. “Yeah, sounds good. I need to get myself ready and make sure the 13-year old hasn’t used up all the hot water.”

Frankie laughed. “She discover boys yet?”

Hopper made a face. “She has a boyfriend. He’s a good kid, but Christ, you’d think they were attached at the hip sometimes. I swear to God...”

The door opened and Ell came out, dressed for school though her curls were still damp. “Dad, where’s breakfast? I thought you said…” She stopped mid-sentence, noticing the woman on the porch. She took a couple steps closer to her father.

Hopper put his hand on her back. “It’s OK, Ellie. This is Special Agent Stone. I told you about her last night.”

Ell’s eyes grew wide, but she still stayed close to her father. She was shy around strangers, and with good reason, though she had been getting a bit more bold. Apparently not this time. 

Hopper gave her a small nudge. “Manners, Ell.”

The teen stepped forward. She extended her hand and spoke quietly and quickly. “Hi, I’m Jane Hopper.”

Frankie shook her hand. “Hi Jane. I’m Frances Stone, but most people call me Frankie. If your dad says it’s ok, you can call me that.”

Ell smiled brightly, then looked up at her dad, who nodded. “If you see her around here, it’s fine. Anywhere else, you call her Agent Stone. OK?”

She nodded, then turned back to Frankie. “Ell,” she said. She blushed a little before adding, “Everyone calls me Ell.”

Frankie smiled at the girl, utterly charmed. Hopper wasn’t surprised. His daughter tended to do that to people. “Why ‘Ell’?”

Ell looked to her father, who said, “Middle name, Eloise. She likes it better than Jane.”

Frankie nodded. “I get it. I like Frankie better than Frances.”

Ell smiled again, then seemed to remember something. She tugged on Hoppers sleeve so he bent toward her and she whispered to him. Hopper chuckled. “No, I didn’t. But since you’re here, you can ask her yourself.”

She looked nervously at Frankie and then back at her dad. He smiled at her. “It’s ok, kid. Go ahead.”

Ell paused; Hopp could tell she was trying to gather her words. She was getting more used to talking to people she didn’t know, but it wasn’t what he’d call easy just yet. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke, her words careful and quiet. “Friday is Career Day at school. I wanted to…” She paused, thinking. “Invite you to come and talk to my class.” Another pause, then something seemed to occur to her and she said, “Dad says that you’re very smart and good at your job, and also that you are very attractive.”

Hopper, who had been sipping his coffee, nearly did a spit take. In trying to prevent that, the coffee went down the wrong pipe, and he began to cough loudly.

Ell was immediately concerned. “Dad! Are you ok?” She pulled at his arm.

“I’m fi… Fine, I’m fine, Ell.” He cleared his throat. “Just swallowed wrong.” He tried not to look as mortified as he felt. It wasn’t an easy task, especially when he saw Frankie clearly trying not to laugh. 

“I’m honored to be asked,” Frankie said to Ell. “What time does Career Day start?”

“10 o’clock,” Ell said. “Mr. Clarke--he’s my science teacher--and Mrs. Anderson are in charge of it.”

Frankie looked at Hopper. “You ok with an early start on Friday?” When Hopper nodded, she looked back at Ell. “I’ll call your school today and ask them if I can come at two so I can get my work done with your dad in the morning. If they say that’s all right, I’d love to come.”

Ell looked like she was going to burst with happiness. “Thank you!” She looked again at her father. “Can I go back in and tell everyone before school, please, Dad?”

“Yes, but be quick. I need to make breakfast and you need to eat it. OK?”

The girl nodded. She started to walk back into the house, then remembered herself and turned back to Frankie. “It was nice to meet you.” She ran back into the house.

Frankie gave Hopper a smile that was almost a smirk. “She seems like quite a kid.”

“Yeah,” Hopper agreed. “She really is. So, uh, 11am?”

The agent laughed. “Don’t look so flustered, Chief. I think she--and you, as a matter of fact--are very sweet. Make some more of that coffee and bring it to the station. It’s good. I’ll see you in a few hours.” She stepped lightly down the stairs and took off in a run.

Hopper opened the door to the house and went back in. “Ell!” he called to his daughter. “We need to talk about appropriate things to say to people!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are love :)


	4. Learning New Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Day One of forensics education for Hawkins PD. New things are learned, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DNA fingerprinting didn't actually exist until 1984 and wasn't used in a criminal case until 1987, in England. I am ignoring that for the purposes of this story, since it is only a minor mention and not a plot point. I am researching other forensic methods that were in more common use in the early 1980s in the US, though, so I might go back and correct later. If you have suggestions, please do let me know!

Eleven o’clock came fast. He’d gotten through the morning without making either himself or Ell late for anything. He tried to talk to her about appropriate things to say to people and why conversations at home weren’t always for everyone else to hear, but he didn’t think it really got through. She was understanding more and more every day, but some nuances still escaped her. She saw things as black and white in a lot of ways. In her mind, compliments were good things. If you thought something complimentary about someone, you tell them that. And since Hopper didn’t have the time or inclination to get into a complex discussion of adult relationships, he just let it go. Cat was already out of the bag, anyway.

Besides, Frankie seemed fine with it. Shit, she’d said he was sweet. So he had made more coffee and filled the biggest thermos he could find with it. He even stopped on the way to the station and bought real milk instead of the powdered shit they had at the station. He shocked the hell out of Flo when he handed it to her, but then he warned that no one was to drink it until the agent arrived, and she seemed to feel that was a bit more normal on his part. Gruff Hopper she could handle. She’d been handling that since he first became Chief.

Frankie arrived promptly at 11, dressed in another tailored suit. This time it was pants instead of a skirt, and her blouse was a deep shade of blue. Rather than waiting for Flo to bring her in, he walked out of his office to greet her. “Special Agent,” he said. 

“Chief Hopper.” They were both being formal, but she gave him a quick wink when Flo looked away for a second. “I’d like to thank you again for being so accommodating. I’m having lunch brought in for everyone around 12:30. I’d like to start by speaking with you in your office so we can go over my plans for today.”

He nodded. “Can I get you a coffee?”

“That would be great.”

Flo started over to the table, but Hopper stopped her. “I’ve got it, Flo. Get Callahan and Powell back here, please. Tell them that whatever bullshit Phil Larson called about this morning is done now, and I don’t know why the hell it took two cops anyway.”

Flo shrugged. “Phil said it was serious.”

“He always does.” Hooper fixed two coffees. “Just tell them to be back here before 12:30 and not to eat lunch.” He turned back to Frankie and indicated the open door to his office with a nod of his head. “After you.”

As the agent preceded him into his office, Flo said under her breath, “Always so polite to the pretty ones.”

“I heard that!” He walked into his office and kicked the door shut behind him.

Frankie took the coffee offered to her and took a sip. “Phil Larson?”

“Local nut,” Hopper said. “He calls almost every day with one crazy thing after another. Kids stealing gnomes from his garden, wild dogs digging up his vegetable patch. It’s always something that he needs the police for right away. Haven’t found proof of a single thing yet.” 

“Not even the dogs?” she asked.

“It’s Indiana,” he said. “We have deer and he doesn’t have a fence.”

She laughed. “I don’t miss calls like that. Though in Baltimore it was usually a little more serious. I did get called to a house once because an old woman was positive there was a lunatic on angel dust in her backyard.”

“Was there?” He motioned for her to have a seat, then took his own seat.

“Nope,” she said. “Scarecrow. Which explained why it didn’t take off running when she was screaming and yelling at it through her dining room window.”

“So why’d they call you in?” he asked. “You were an assistant tech, not a beat cop.”

“Because when the beat cop knocked the scarecrow over to prove to her that it wasn’t a dusted-out lunatic, they found more than just hay inside of it.”

He leaned forward, his arms on his desk. “No shit?”

“No shit,” she said. “Somebody came up with the bright idea to stuff the body into the scarecrow. Young kid, just shy of his 20th birthday. He was a mess -- throat slit, head trauma, just beaten all to hell.”

“You find the guy?” Hopper remembered seeing bodies like that in New York. Not all of those cases got solved.

She nodded, sipping more coffee. “Mmm hmm.” She put her cup on his desk. “Perp left the kid’s wallet, one of those shiny fake leather ones. Left his prints all over it too, along with some blood that didn’t match the vic. It was the first case the medical examiner let me take the lead on.”

“Hell of a feather in your cap,” he said, impressed.

“Yeah, you’d think so. But the boys’ club just considered it beginners luck.”

Hopper shook his head. “Bullshit. I read your file.”

“You have the advantage of reading my file now,” she pointed out. “All they saw was a 25-year old girl who had the unmitigated gall to not just set foot in their department, but expect them to listen to what she said.”

He thought for a moment. “You put up with a lot of shit, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “But water under the bridge. And it all went into creating this fine specimen of Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agent that you see before you now.” She gave him a mocking half-bow from her seat. 

“Whatever it took to get you here,” he said. 

“Why Chief Hopper, you do say the sweetest things.” She took another sip of her coffee, looking straight at him over the rim of the mug.

“Stick around,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sure my daughter will fill you in on all kinds of things that I say.”

Frankie laughed. “I like her,” she said. “It’s rare to meet a teenager that’s so open.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Hopper said. “Don’t let that fool you. She can be a real teenager when she wants to be. Slamming doors, yelling, crying for no reason, on the phone all night.” He sighed, then smiled. “She’s a handful. But she’s my handful.”

“She had it rough for a while, before you,“ Frankie said, her voice a bit softer.

“You don’t know the half of it.” Hopper knew that what she was talking about was the stuff that was in the “official” file, which said that Ell had spent some time in the foster care system. But his statement was true either way. 

“Anyway,” she said. “ back to business.“ She reached into small attaché case she brought with her and pulled out a file. “I thought we take it a bit easy today. Honestly, most of what’s in here is the kind of thing that is unlikely to happen in a small town like this. But it’s still good to have the knowledge in case you ever do need to call in a CSI.“ She got up and came around to his side of the desk, placing the file in front of him and standing next to his chair.

He open the file and started reading through her notes. “So that’s what DNA fingerprinting is,” he said. “I was a little confused when I first saw that.”

“Just another way to say DNA profiling,“ she said. “Do you mind if I take off my jacket? I wasn’t expecting it to be this warm in October.“

“Yeah, take off whatever you want,“ Hopper said, still reading over the notes and only half aware of what he was saying.

He became more aware of it, however, when he heard her chuckle and she responded, “Well, since you failed to put down the shades on your office windows, I think I’ll just stick to my jacket.” 

“Oh, Christ, I didn’t mean...” he began.

She interrupted him by putting her hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Jim,” she said with a smile. “I knew what you meant.”

She took the jacket off and laid it on his desk, then leaned down. The blouse was a button-down and it hung loosely when she bent to the file. Hopper kept his eyes directly on the paper, doing his absolute damnedest not to notice the black lace bra that was just visible because of her posture. It a little harder not to notice her perfume when she was so close to him, something musky and spicy that made him think very un-Chief-of-Police-like things. She moved to point something out; when her hand brushed his, the contact hit him like an electric shock and he just barely managed not to flinch. 

“...and then we can talk about luminol, maybe get a little bit into blood spatter analysis, though I think I’d rather save that for Friday since I didn’t bring those photos today. Does that work for you? Jim?”

Christ, she had been talking and he had been too busy thinking about her perfume and one brief touch of her hand to notice. “Yeah, uh, yeah, Friday. That’s probably a good idea.” Get it together, Hopper, he thought to himself. “We don’t have luminol here, though.”

“I brought some.” She was still leaning down. She had her elbows on his desk, reading the file right beside him, and every time she reached to turn a page or move a paper, her shoulder brushed against his. When she turned her head to say something to him, he only half-heard it because he was suddenly hyper-aware of how close her face was to his. Her eyes were a rich, deep brown and Jesus fucking christ, what the hell was he doing?

Thank God for more than 20 years on the job; his cop-brain filled in the blank spaces that the rest of his brain had missed. “How much time do you think you’ll need on Friday?”

“If we start around nine, I think we could be finished up around noon,” she said. “That gives me time to run back to the cabin and get some things for the kids. Oh, that reminds me, can I use your phone?”

“To call the school? Yeah, of course.” He started to push the phone closer to her, then said, “Listen, you don’t have to do it. Career Day, I mean.”

“And disappoint that kid? Absolutely not.” She glanced a piece of paper that was clipped to the file and began dialing. “Besides,” she said, not looking at him. “I have it on good authority that doing something nice for a child can sometimes get you in good with the parent.”

Hopper leaned back in his chair again, a thoughtful smile on his face. “You know,” he mused. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re just fucking with me to see how I’ll react, Special Agent Stone.”

There she went with that easy smile again. “Sure, Chief Hopper. Let’s call it that. Hello, can I speak with…” She glanced at the paper again. “Scott Clarke, please? It’s Frances Stone.”

Hopper got up from his chair. He picked up his mug and hers so he could refill both. Before he left the room, though, he decided to take a shot of his own. He leaned close to the ear that wasn’t occupied by the phone and said in a deep, quiet voice, “I’ll just grab you another cup of coffee. I’m pretty sure I know how you like it.” 

She blushed. He left the office with a smirk on his face. 

The rest of the day passed easily. Frankie was a good, relaxed instructor and she took the occasionally stupid questions of his officers in stride, never making either Powell or Callahan feel like anything other than the good cops Hopper knew them to be. Some of what she explained was a little bit beyond the scope of a small department like Hawkins PD, but she kept things as simple as possible. Both Powell and Callahan shook hands with her when the training was done; they thanked her for lunch as well. 

“Looking forward to tomorrow, Agent,” Powell said. 

“Yeah,” Callahan agreed. “I feel a lot better about how to secure a crime scene now.”

“I’m glad,” Frankie said. “And if you have any more questions, just ask me tomorrow. We’ll get started in the morning this time. I’ll bring doughnuts.”

“Flo doesn’t like the Chief to have doughnuts,” Callahan said. 

“I’ll talk to Flo,” Hopper said. “You two just make sure you’re here, no matter what Phil Larson comes up with this time.” 

Powell and Callahan left the small room where the training had taken place. Frankie began gathering up her things. “I think that went well,” she said. 

“Yeah, it did,” Hopper said. “Thanks for keeping it easy for them to understand.”

“No problem.” She put the papers in her attache. “Tomorrow should be just as simple and I think they’ll be fine. I’m more nervous about tomorrow afternoon, to be honest.”

“Career Day?” he asked. “You’ll be fine. Those kids are going to be so excited that there’s a real, live FBI agent in their classroom that you could talk about your mother’s apple pie recipe and they’ll still be fascinated.”

“I thought I could bring in the luminol and some animal blood, show them how even after you clean with bleach, the traces will still glow under blacklight. I don’t want to freak them out too much, though.”

“They’re teenagers,” he said. “The shit they see in horror movies is way gorier than most of what you’ve got. I mean, I’d leave the crime scene pictures at the cabin, but other than that, you’ll be fine.”

“Right, because standing in front of a room full of teenagers isn’t at all intimidating.” She gave him a look. “C’mon, now, Jim.”

“I end up with about six of them in my house more often than not, so maybe I’m getting immune.” He picked up his hat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“You know, I am an FBI agent,” she said, picking up her attache and preceding him out the door. “I can actually walk places all by myself. I don’t need a big strong man to help me. Most of them are kinda afraid of me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an Indiana boy who was raised to have good manners,” he said, putting his hat on. “And I’m more afraid of the ghost of my dead mother than I am of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, concrit, your favorite recipe that Hopper needs to cook, I'll take it all. Thank you so much for reading.


	5. Kids and Cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ell is more observant than her father likes sometimes, and small town cops can be a real pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time. More coming soon!

He had been back in his office for an hour or so when the door burst open and a blur of flannel shirt and dark hair came barreling toward him. “Thank you, Dad!” Ell exclaimed. “You’re the best dad ever.” She threw her arms around his neck.

“Loosen up, kid, you’re choking me.” She let go and beamed at him, and he ruffled her hair. “You’re welcome. And you make sure you thank Agent Stone when you see her tomorrow, ok? She did not have to do that and it is very nice of her to take the time to come to your class.”

Ell nodded vigorously, curls bouncing. “Everybody is so excited,” she said. “Max screamed. She almost got in trouble, but I think Mr. Clarke is kind of excited too. Dustin said it’s a Big Deal.” How she managed to pronounce those last two words with capital letters, Hopper had no idea, but she sure did. 

“I guess it is kind of a big deal,” he said. “It’s kind of a big deal to have her here at the station, too.”

She plopped herself into the chair opposite his desk. “Did you learn a lot today?”

“I did,” he said. “Did you?”

“We started geometry,” she said. “I think I like it.”

He made a face. “I hated geometry. You’re going to have to ask someone other than your old man to help you with that.”

“Dustin said Steve is good at math.”

Hopper nodded. Steve Harrington was a good kid; Hopper still didn’t know why he didn’t go to college. He’d tutored Ell last year and she thrived under his teaching. “Good, Harrington can tutor you again if you need it.”

She smiled. “I like Steve.”

“Yeah, kid, me too.”

“He’s coming to Career Day.”

Hopper looked confused. “He is?”

“Uh huh.” She had pulled a notebook out of her backpack and was paging through it. “He volunteered to help, and also his dad is coming to talk about…” She stopped for a minute. “What’s the word for working with money?”

“Finances. You want that to be your word of the day?”

“No.” She wrote it down in her notebook anyway; Hopper watched as she sounded it out. “I want a police word so I have something good to ask Frankie.”

“OK, let me think about that. Who else is coming to Career Day?” He was off the hook this year, something he could probably thank Frankie for--why get the local cop in when you’ve got a federal agent?

“Mrs. Byers is coming to help, and Mr. Newby is coming to talk about electronics. I don’t know who else.” She put her notebook away. “Are you coming?”

“I’m gonna try, kid. I have to work in the morning but maybe I can come after.”

“You should come see Frankie,” his daughter said. 

“Oh, I should, should I?” He sat back in his hair. “And why is that?”

“She’s pretty. And smart. You like her.”

Hopper blinked. “I what? What makes you think that?”

Ell shrugged. “You let her on the porch and made her coffee. You introduced her to me and let me ask her to come to Career Day. You wouldn’t do that with someone you didn’t like.” She looked at him and her brow furrowed. “Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like when I say something I’m not supposed to say,” she said. “Your eyes get all big and you look like I scared you except it’s not scared, it’s…” She searched for the word. “Nervous. Why are you…” Her eyes grew wide for a second. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” he asked. 

She looked down at her hands, but she was grinning. “Nothing.”

“Ell.” No response. “Ellie.” Still nothing. “Jane Elouise Hopper. Oh what?”

She looked up. Her grin made her look mischievous, like something out of a storybook. “You like-like her.”

Sometimes his kid was too observant for her own good. Certainly for his good. “Ok. And what makes you say that?“

“A hunch.“ That grin was still on her face.

“That’s a cop word,” he said. 

“I know,” she said. “It was my 47th word of the day.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep your hunch to yourself, understand?” He did not need another repeat of that morning on the porch, especially not in front of her entire classroom, her teacher, and the other kids’ parents. Including Joyce. “Like we talked about on the way to school, remember?”

“I remember,” she said. Ell stood up and shouldered her backpack. “Five-one-five?”

She knew the right way to say the time now, but it was something they still did, a father/daughter thing. “Five-one-five,” he agreed. “What’s for dinner?”

“Cheeseburgers?”

“OK,” he said. “Now straight home. I want to see homework done when I get in.”

She walked over to hug him and kiss his cheek. “Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, honey.”  
***

Friday morning training did not go as well as Thursday afternoon. It started off fine. Hopper was at the station bright and early, much to Flo’s surprise, and he again brought coffee from home. Frankie arrived just before nine with a box of pastries from the diner. Flo took Hopper’s bear claw and replaced it with a banana, but when he and Frankie were in his office behind a closed door, she brought a hidden pastry out from her purse and handed it to him. “Our secret,” she said. “Shhhh.” She put her finger to her lips when she did that, which was probably good because otherwise Hopper might have kissed her out of sheer gratitude. 

Unfortunately, things started going downhill not long after that. 

Frankie had intended to discuss blood pattern analysis. She gave a basic rundown of BPA and how it could help, then lowered the lights and began a slide presentation of crime scene photos to show real-life examples of spatter patterns.

They got as far as slide seven before Callahan threw up. 

Powell ran from the room, his hand over his own mouth. He made it outside just in time to vomit onto the front fender of Dale Cranson’s brand-new Datsun 720, causing Cranson to start screaming holy hell before he even got into the station. Flo flatly refused to have a hand in the cleaning, not that Hopper could blame her, and frankly he agreed when she announced to the still-green-tinged officers, “You boys made it. You boys can clean it up.” To their credit, they got buckets and bleach and dutifully went about their business both in and outside of the station. That left Hopper to deal with a pissed-off Cranson, who had returned home from an overnight in Indianapolis to find that someone had done donuts all over his newly-manicured front lawn (a stupid goddamn waste of money in the first, in Hopper’s opinion, but he managed to keep that to himself. Barely.). But that wasn’t all. Said someone had been found by Cranson--it was one of the Johnson’s boys, the 17-year old. Cranson had discovered him passed-out drunk in the kid’s father’s ‘83 Fiero, which was parked half-in and half-out of Cranson’s toolshed. “So where’s the kid now?” Hopper had asked. 

“Hog-tied in the back of my goddamn truck, where do you think, Hopp?” was Cranson’s reply. “Goddamn kid is still passed out.”

That was apparently Frankie’s cue to leave before she pissed herself laughing, judging by the look on her face. Hopper managed to get away from Cranson and the rest of the chaos for a few minutes so he could walk her out.

When they got to her car, she was wiping tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Jesus christ, that was quite a morning.”

“Yeah, welcome to Hawkins,” Hopper said. “Home of hog-tied teenagers and the country’s most delicate officers. Looks like training is shot for today, Agent.”

“That’s another reason I have them keep me in town for longer than they think I need to be here,” she said. “Things go wrong--ok, maybe not quite this wrong, but it happens. I’ll leave everything here, if that’s alright with you. We can try again on Monday, or over the weekend, if that’s better?”

“Monday is fine,” he said. “I don’t work weekends anymore if I don’t have to, because of Ell.”

“Speaking of, looks like I have a little more time to prep for Career Day.” She gave him a smile. “Will I see you there?”

Hopper rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, provided I get through the rest of the morning without anything else going spectacularly wrong.”

“Good,” she said, getting into her car. “Moral support.”

“Sure, Agent,” Hopper said, echoing her words of the previous day. “Let’s call it that.” He waved her off and walked back to the station. He’d spotted a little flush of color to her cheeks when he’d said that to her. Maybe the morning hadn’t been a total disaster, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are love.


	6. A Visit to Hawkins Middle School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Career Day! What will Joyce and the kids think of Frankie? Time to find out.

Hopper made it to the school by 1:45. He was still in uniform, since technically he was still on duty. He’d taken care of Cranson and the Johnson kid at the station, then sent Callahan to assess the property damage and Powell to escort the teenager home and talk to his parents. Cranson didn’t want to press charges anyway, provided the damages were taken care of, and Hopper knew Dave Johnson, the kid’s father, well enough to be sure that wouldn’t be a problem.

He found the science classroom and slipped in quietly, closing the door behind him. His daughter spotted him right away, and her smile melted his heart like it always did. He found a spot by the wall, next to Joyce Byers and Bob Newby. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice down. “What’d I miss?”

“Rich Harrington is still an asshole,” Joyce answered in a similar quiet voice. 

“And still boring,” added Bob. “Hey, Jim.”

“Kids must have loved that,” Hopper said. 

“Mike fell asleep,” Joyce said. “And your daughter asked him if it was hard to go to work every day where nothing interesting ever happened.”

Hopper grinned. “That’s my girl.”

“I think Steve was prouder of her than you are.” The woman chuckled. “He promised her homemade waffles. Other than that, Lucas’ mom talked about running a bakery and brought cupcakes for everyone, Robbie Hammond came in to talk about managing a diner and gave us all coupons for free burgers.”

“Did you get one for me?” Hopper interrupted. 

“You’ve never paid for a Benny’s Burger in your life, Jim Hopper,” Joyce scoffed. “And as far as that family is concerned, you never will.” Hopper had ensured that Benny’s family was well taken care of after the man himself was murdered by Hawkins Lab operatives. And while he never told Robbie, Benny’s brother, the full truth behind what happened, he told him enough, including that the people responsible for it had paid for their crime. Benny had been a good friend. It was the least he could do.

“I got you one, Jim,” Bob said. When they both looked at him, he shrugged. “What? It’s the thought that counts. Also you missed my fascinating presentation about electronics.” He smiled. “Mr. Clarke asked me to come back for one of the AV Club meetings. And Ell asked about a phone for her bedroom. I told her we didn’t sell them.”

“Good call,” Hopper said. 

“They don’t call me Bob the Brain for nothing.”

“All right, everyone, can I have your attention please? Dustin, drum roll.” Scott Clarke, in his best captain of the curiosity voyage voice, waited for quiet, then spoke again. “Our final Career Day presentation is a very special guest that is here thanks to Jane Hopper and her dad, Chief Hopper. Ladies and Gentlemen, all the way from Washington, DC, by way of Indianapolis, introducing Special Agent Frances Stone of the Federal Bureau of Investigation!”

The classroom applauded enthusiastically. Mr. Clarke shot Dustin a warning look when he whooped, which made Frankie smile as she took the "stage," otherwise known as the front of the classroom.

"Good morning, and thank you, Mr. Clarke, for the introduction," Frankie began. "My name is Frankie Stone, and I am a Special Agent for the FBI. Does anyone know what a Special Agent is?"

Max’s hand shot up and Frankie nodded at her. “A Special Agent means that you went to the FBI academy after getting a Master’s Degree and working in law enforcement for a while. It means the FBI recruited you, because they knew that you would be awesome at your job.”

Hopper, snorted a quiet laugh. “Jesus, that kid must have memorized her file.”

“Speaking of,” Joyce said in an overly nonchalant voice, “I’ve heard that FBI Special Agents really like coffee. Is that true?”

Hopper rolled his eyes. “Yeah? What else did you hear?”

She elbowed him. “Spill it, Hopp.”

“There’s nothing to spill, Joyce. She’s staying in the old Pierce cabin and she ended up on my property when she went for a run yesterday morning. She asked for a cup of coffee; I gave her a cup of coffee.”

“Uh huh,” Joyce nodded. “At what point during the coffee did you mention that you thought she was attractive?”

Fucking walkie talkies. “Technically, that was Ell.”

“Because you don’t think she’s attractive.”

“Jesus, you’re worse than my kid,” Hopper said. “Yes, Joyce, the Special Agent with the FBI who is in town to train my police department is very attractive. I hear Doug Harrison at the crime lab in Indianapolis is a hell of a looker too. You want my opinion about him?”

“You’re awfully touchy about such a simple question, Hopp.” Joyce did not bother to hide her amusement. “Can’t imagine why.” 

“She is training my department,” Hopper repeated. “Besides, she’s only in town for a couple of weeks.”

“Huh.” Joyce looked thoughtful. “Kinda figured that would be a selling point for you.”

“You should ask her out,” Bob said. “She’s pretty. And you both work in law enforcement, so you probably have a lot in common.”

Hopper was saved before Joyce could chime in again. “If the two of you could stop, please, I’d like to hear my daughter now.” 

Ell had her hand raised and Frankie pointed to her. “Why are ballistics important for solving crime?” Ell asked.

Joyce gave Hopper’s arm a squeeze. “She’s come so far, Hopp.”

“Drove me nuts for two hours last night,” Hopper said, a proud smile on his face. “Wanted me to help her find a police word so she could come up with the perfect question for Frankie.”

“Good job, Dad.”

Frankie was answering Ell’s question. “I’m really glad you asked that,” she said. “Because I brought something with me that is about ballistics. Mr. Clarke, if you would, please?”

The science teacher dimmed the lights in the room so Frankie could use the overhead projector to show the class bullet casings and rifling impressions, along with some side-by-side comparisons. She made a point of asking Ell for follow-up questions and seemed sincerely impressed by the girl’s knowledge. Hopper had given Ell a crash course in ballistics the night before--she’d asked him about a hundred questions last night and clearly she retained most of what he’d told her. Ell’s responses were confident and she looked like she was enjoying the attention. He couldn’t have been prouder.

After the ballistics pictures, Mr. Clarke brought the lights up and Frankie did a couple of simple forensics demonstrations. The luminol was the biggest hit. When the classroom lights went off and the blacklight showed the telltale blue glow of blood even after it had been cleaned off, there was an audible “Whoa” from almost everyone in the room, including most of the adults. Dustin Henderson nearly fell off his desk chair. 

Mr. Clarke thanked Frankie for coming to Career Day and let the class know that they were done for the day. The majority of students headed right out the door, but a good number stayed behind to surround Frankie, notably the Party. Dustin wanted to know about forensic entomology. Lucas asked about martial arts and self defense training. Mike and Will were talking over each other, both asking about the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list. Max and Ell, however, hung back from the crowd. 

Hopper walked over to his daughter and her friend. “No more questions for the Agent?” he asked.

Ell shrugged, her expression one of utter calm. “I can just ask her at our house.”

“Yeah,” Max said, just as cool. “Let the boys get all their questions out. We can ask her whenever.”

“Oh yeah?” Hopper said. “And what makes you two so sure she’s going to be at the house?”

Ell and Max looked at him for a second, then both burst out laughing. “Oh, Dad,” Ell laughed, hugging him. “You’re really funny. Can Max and I ride our bikes home so I can get my stuff?”

“Yes, but I want you to call me on the radio when you get the Byers, ok? And you still need to thank Agent Stone before you leave,” he reminded her.

The girls nodded and headed over to join the boys and thank Frankie. Once the kids dissipated, the adults took their turn. Hopper watched as Frankie fielded questions from parents and teachers; he caught her eye and gave her a wink, which she returned.

“Did the hot FBI agent just wink at you, Chief?”

The question came from Steve Harrington. Hopper turned to him. “What, you think women only wink at guys who use Fabrege Organics, Harrington?”

Steve stood next to him, looking at Frankie. “So, I guess that means you’re not going to introduce me?”

Hopper smirked. “Like you could handle her. Sure, I’ll introduce you. You can make it up to me by helping Ell with geometry.”

“How’s my hair?”

“Shut up, Harrington.”

The kids had left, including the Party. It was just the adults now, all surrounding Frankie and chatting away. Hopper walked up with Steve just in time to hear Joyce saying, “...need anything, Bob and I would be happy to show you around if Hopp is busy.”

“Maybe the four of us could have dinner,” Bob added. “You might not think it to look at me, but I make a mean chicken marsala, and it could be really fun to double…”

“You survived the kids, and now it’s the adults,” Hopper interrupted before Bob could go any further with his statement. 

Scott Clarke spoke first. “Chief, I can’t thank you enough for helping bring Agent Stone to our classroom. The kids were absolutely thrilled. I suspect I am going to be grading more than a few reports on luminol.”

Frankie smiled. “It was my pleasure. You have some incredibly bright children in your class. I can drop off some more things for experiments, if you like. It’s amazing what you can do with a small piece of hamburger and the right outdoor conditions.”

Scott smiled back. “I think Dustin would be beside himself with joy.”

“He’s not allowed to have it in my car,” Steve insisted.

“Or my house,” Joyce and Hopper said at the same time. 

Everyone laughed, and Hopper introduced Steve. “This is Steve Harrington. He was Ell’s tutor for a while.”

Steve gave Frankie a charming smile and shook her hand. “Special Agent Stone. It’s really nice to meet you. Ell and Max had a lot to say about you.”

“And they told you?” she asked.

“Steve kinda became the accidental babysitter,” Joyce said. “All the kids adore him and it’s really nice to have someone we can trust when we need him.” 

“Or to drive them around so we don’t have to,” Hopper added. 

Frankie smiled again, nodding at Steve. “This has been terrific,” she said. “I’m so glad to meet everyone. But if you don’t mind, I need to start gathering my things and get back to work.”

“Of course,” Scott said. “I’ll get everyone out of your hair so you can pack up. Just leave the classroom door open when you go.”

As soon as everyone left, Hopper walked over to her. “Not bad, Agent. Not bad at all.”

“Why, thank you, Chief Hopper.” Frankie put the cover on the box she had been packing and looked at him. “Do you drink, Jim?”

“Occasionally,” he said. “Why?”

“Is there a place in town where you like to drink?” She handed him the box and picked up her bag and case. She started walking out the door and indicated that he should follow. 

“Yeah, there is,” he said. “Again, why?”

“Do they have food there?”

“Bar food, but yeah, they do.” They were almost to her car now. “Are you going to tell me why you’re asking or do I get to keep answering random questions?”

“Sure,” she said. She opened up the car and put her things in the back seat. Once he did the same with the box, she closed the door and looked at him. “You’re picking me up at seven. You’re buying dinner and drinks.”

“I am?” He was smiling. 

“Yes,” she said. “And the reason you are driving is because you are buying me drinks. Several of them.”

He laughed. “They kept you on your toes, didn’t they?”

“Oh, yeah.” She opened the driver’s side door and got behind the wheel. “Don’t be late.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He watched her drive away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and concrit are the best - please keep them coming! Thank you for continuing to read.


	7. Drinks in Hawkins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a date! Drinks at the local watering hole lead to some interesting interactions. And maybe some plain old action. (This chapter does not contain smut -- the next chapter will)

Hopper was outside her cabin door at 6:53, wearing jeans, a grey henley and one of his nicer flannels. He was grateful that Ell was sleeping over at the Byers’ tonight so there was no one home to see him change shirts five times before finally deciding on his usual clothes, since they were going to a bar where people knew him. He knocked, passing a hand over his hair to smooth it one last time. 

She opened it and smiled. “Come in. Don’t mind the mess.”

He honestly didn’t notice any mess. He was too busy looking at her. Her hair was down--he’d never seen it that way. It was long and dark, with a gentle wave to it. She had makeup on, not a lot, but more than when she was working, especially the cherry-red lip color that made her mouth look downright edible. She was wearing jeans, like him. Unlike him, hers were fitted, accentuating her curves in a way her business suits did not. Her top was another button-down, though apparently off the clock meant two fewer buttons done. “You look great,” he said.

“You too,” she said. 

“I’m not saying the fed suits aren’t flattering,” he went on. “But this, this is…” He faltered, and had the good sense to laugh at himself. “Like I said, you look great.”

“Thank you.” She grabbed her jacket. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” 

The bar was small and dingy in a way that was comfortable rather than run-down--a typical small-town, working man’s bar. About half the clientele looked up and nodded when Hopper walked in; a good third of that half stared a little at the woman he came in with. The bartender, Diane, waved him over. “Two seats toward the end, Hopp.”

“Thanks, Diane.” He led Frankie to the proffered seats, helping her with her jacket and, as usual, waiting until she was seated before he took his spot at the bar. 

Diane came right over. “Evening, Chief. Been a while.” She looked at Frankie. “Who’s your lady friend?”

“This is Special Agent Frankie Stone,” Hopper said. He had to admit, he was enjoying the attention. “FBI, in town to help out the Hawkins PD. Frankie, this is Diane Gordon. This is her place.”

Frankie shook hands. “He come here a lot?” she asked with a smile.

“Not as often as he used to,” Diane said. “Having a kid’ll do that to a man. A good one, anyway. What can I get you? I know what he drinks.”

“Anything local on tap is fine with me,” Frankie said. “But nothing light.”

Diane nodded. “You want food?” 

Hopper looked at Frankie, who shrugged. “Just the drinks for now, Diane. Thanks.”

The bartender nodded. “I’ll get you some fries.. Drinks’ll be up in a sec.”

Conversation flowed easily between Hopper and Frankie. They talked about Career Day, and Frankie asked after the kids and the other people she’d met that day. She laughed at how Hopper rolled his eyes when he talked about Ell and Mike, and smiled when he talked about Dustin and Steve. “I’m trying to convince Harrington to go to the academy,” he said. “Kid’ll make a great cop. He’s got the heart and the head for it.”

“They might make him cut that beautiful hair,” she said. 

“Jesus, don’t tell him that.”

“That I think his hair is beautiful or that the academy might make him cut it?” she asked. 

“Either. Both.” 

They continued talking as they enjoyed the bar food--Frankie pronounced the burger one of the best she’d ever had--and their beer. Hopper was enjoying the hell out of her company, and he had to admit he was also enjoying the attention she was getting from the other patrons. A couple locals gave him a none-too-subtle elbow as they passed him as well as a few appreciative nods and winks. 

When Frankie excused herself to go the rest room, Diane came back to take their plates. “Nice choice,” she said. 

He gave her a confused look. “It was a burger and beer. Same thing I get every time I’m here.”

“I was talking about your date,” she said. “I like her. She’s sharp. Try not to fuck this one up.”

“There’s nothing to fuck up, Diane,” Hopper said. “She lives in Indianapolis. She’s only here for a couple of weeks. If that.”

“Sure, Hop,” the woman said, giving him a knowing look. “You keep telling yourself that.” She walked away. 

Frankie came back to the bar and took her seat. “Lot of badge bunnies in this town, huh?” She sipped her beer.

Hopper laughed. “Got cornered in the ladies room, did you?”

She smiled at him. “Oh, yeah. By four of them. We’re on a date, by the way. It was the only way I could get them to stop asking questions.”

Hopper puffed out his chest a bit. “Yeah, I can’t help it if women like the uniform.”

“Uh huh,” she mused. “Might have something to do with what’s inside the uniform. Can’t say I completely blame them. Though I think I prefer you out of it.”

He blinked at her. “Excuse me, Agent?”

She winked. “You cut a fine figure in a blue bathrobe, Chief.”

“Right,” he said, smiling. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Do that,” she said. “In fact, I…” She was interrupted by a man stumbling into her. She fixed the guy with a hard look. “Watch yourself.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, doll.” The man was clearly drunk. He leered at Frankie, took another step and very deliberately fell against her, his hands coincidentally landing right on her breasts.

Hopper was halfway out of his seat, ready to take care of the guy, but Frankie beat him to it. She got up, gave the drunk a hard elbow to the chest and then used her foot to sweep his legs out from under him when he stumbled. 

He fell hard. “What the fuck…”

He didn’t have a chance to finish that sentence before Frankie had her knee on his chest and a cuff around his wrist. She attached the other end attached to the bar rail. “That was a mistake, my friend,” she said. “And I don’t think you know how big. Now I am ready to consider this a happenstance of someone who had a little too much this evening and let bygones be bygones, if you apologize.”

“And what if I don’t?” the drunk slurred. “You think you’re tough, bitch? Take that cuff off me and let’s see how tough…”

“OK, buddy, shut your damn mouth..” Hopper began, but Frankie held up a hand to stop him. 

“See that?” she said to the man, pointing to Hopper. “That’s the Chief of Police, but I am betting you already know that. Any other night, things might be all right for you. Maybe you’d get dragged down to the station, spend some time in lockup until you dried out,, then you’d get sent on your merry way with a warning, maybe a citation for drunk and disorderly. But tonight, well, tonight is just not your lucky night. Because what you don’t know is that may be the chief of police, but I”--she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet, flipping it open so he could see the ID and badge-- “I am a special agent with the goddamn FBI. You know what that means?” 

The man shook his head and she continued. “That means you bet your drunk ass that you had better apologize, because if you don’t, then I am going to let the chief here arrest you. And that, my friend, is a real problem for you because that means you don’t get treated to a night in the Hawkins PD lockup. It means you get to wait in that nice police department while I call a few more of my friends, and they will take you straight up to Indiana State Prison, and you’re gonna wait there, in gen pop, while you are indicted on a felony charge for assaulting an agent of the federal government. But I don’t really want to do that because I want to have a nice, calm night with my friend here and arresting and charging your sorry ass will fuck that up for everybody. So how about you apologize, and then I can uncuff you so you can get the fuck out? Sound good?”

The man swallowed. “Yeah, yeah, sounds good. I’m sorry. Ma’am. Very, very sorry.”

“Good boy.” She uncuffed him, dragged him upright by his collar and gave him a hard shove toward the door. She smiled and waved. “Bye now.” 

The man, wisely, got the fuck out. The bar cheered. As soon as Frankie sat back down, Diane came over with two fresh beers. “Drinks on the house,” she said. “That son of a bitch has been a problem all night. Hopper, bring her back anytime.”

“Thanks, Diane, but I think we're about done for the night.” Frankie turned to Hopper. “Shall we? Seems about time for a nightcap back at the cabin.”

Hopper, without taking his eyes off her, dropped some bills on the bar. “Sure, great. Anything you say.” He followed her out the door, pretty damn sure he’d never been so turned on in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please please please let me know what you think!


	8. Nightcap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, about that nightcap...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT.

They got to his Blazer and he opened the door for her. But before she got in, he said, “That was… that was impressive.”

“I told you I didn’t need a big, strong man to protect me. I saw you get up, though.” She gave him a sly grin. “Kinda hot, Chief.”

“Yeah, exactly what I was going for.” He put his hands on her face and kissed her.

She slid her hands up his back and her tongue into his mouth, and when she moaned, he backed her against the truck and pressed himself against her. He broke the kiss long enough to say, “You were serious about that nightcap, right?”

“Absolutely.” She kissed him again, hard and hungry, then said. “Ell’s at her friend’s for the night?”

“Yeah.” Another kiss, and this time she gripped the hair on the back on his head and it was his turn to moan. He grabbed her ass and pulled her hips against his own, then broke the kiss again. “Get in the truck.” 

They both got in. He started the truck and spun gravel as he pulled out of the parking lot. She chuckled. “Easy, Chief. Mind the speed limit.”

“I’m the Chief of Police,” he said. “Who’s gonna ticket me?”

They made it to the cabin and he fumbled with the keys to open the door. Once inside, he closed the door, slammed the locks home and grabbed her. He was trying to kiss her and take off his flannel and her jacket, all at the same time. It was less than successful, and they both ended up laughing and tangled. 

She managed to twist herself out of her own jacket and helped him with his flannel before she began kissing him again. He buried his hands in her hair. “You sure about this?” He was breathless with desire, but he had to know. 

“I was sure about this before you even picked me up tonight,” she said. “I was just waiting for you to make a move.” 

“Jesus, why’d we even go out then?” He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he made for the bedroom. “Though watching you take that guy down was hot as hell.”

“That got you going, huh?” Even with her legs wrapped around him, she was pulling up his shirt and running her hands along his bare chest.

“Yes.” He kissed her again as he lay her down on the bed and moved on top of her. 

She pulled his shirt off completely and began to unbuckle his belt. “Show me.”

“Fuck, Frankie.” He was trying to unbutton her shirt but the buttons were tiny and his fingers kept slipping, so finally he just gave it a good yank. Buttons popped, but from the way she was undoing his jeans, he was pretty sure she didn’t care. He got the blouse off her and threw it to the floor. She was wearing that black lace bra. It was gorgeous but he was a lot more concerned with what was underneath, so that also got thrown to the floor. 

His hands and her hands were getting in the way of each other, so he got up and removed his own jeans and shoes. She got the idea fast and did the same. Finally, everything was off and out of the way and they were both naked in his bed. He kissed her neck, his hands massaging her breasts. “You are fucking beautiful.”

She pulled his head up for a kiss, her legs wrapping around his hips. “You don’t have to compliment me anymore, you know.” She dragged her nails down his back. 

“Yeah? Too bad.” He wrapped his arms around her and turned their bodies so she was on top. He ran his hands down her arms, pushing her gently upright so he could look at her. “You are the hottest fed I have ever seen.”

She pulled him up for more breathless kissing. “Goddamn, you are sexy as hell,” she said against his mouth. “I don’t sleep with cops, but you had me from the get.”

He was hard as a rock and he could feel her, hot and wet against him. “It was the coffee, wasn’t it?”

“Oh totally..” She ground herself against him and he groaned. She licked along his ear and breathed into it, “God, I want you.”

“Let me just…” He kissed her and reached for his nightstand, managing to get the drawer open without having to stop touching her. 

She saw what he was doing and smiled. “Jesus, you just got sexier.” She took the condom from his hand, got it on him, and guided him inside. “Yes…”

She arched her back and he put his mouth on her nipple, tonguing the sensitive flesh and listening to her let her breath out in a hiss. She ran her hands through his hair, “Jim, god, yes.”

Her hips rolled and it was amazing, so he let her set the pace as he moved to her other breast. Every move she made felt incredible and he started thrusting to meet her. He grabbed her hands and laced his fingers with hers. “Jesus, Frankie. Keep doing that, ah, goddamn.”

She started moving up and down and he matched her rhythm. “Yes,” she breathed again. “Just like that.”

She was moving faster and he was trying to hold himself back, but christ, it had been a while and the way she felt around him was becoming more than he could take. He grabbed her by the waist and moved their bodies so he was on top of her again, so he could kiss her while he moved inside of her. 

Her fingers dug into his back. “Fuck, Jim, harder, please.”

He felt her getting close. He went deep and fast, listening to the sounds she was making. She tightened her legs around his hips and gripped his hair in her hands, her breath coming faster as she moved with him. She arched again and let out a quick scream; he felt the pulsing as she came. He thrust hard, practically growled her name, and let it go. 

It took a good ten minutes before he could get up and dispose of the condom. He fell back onto the bed when he returned. He needed a cigarette. He found the pack on the nightstand. “Do you mind?” he asked her.

“Shit, after that I don’t care if you explode.”

“Again?” He lit up while she laughed. He inhaled and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I’m gonna need a little more time for that.”

She laughed. “You and me both. Mind if I sleep a bit before I go?”

“It’s late.” he said. “You don’t need to go.”

She leaned up on her elbow, stole his cigarette and took a drag before handing it back. “You sure about that?”

He grinned, cigarette in his mouth. “Depends on how you feel about doing that again in the morning.”

“When does Ell get home?” 

It was a reasonable question and he appreciated her asking it. “Not until sometime in the afternoon. She’ll be with her friends. Chances are I’ll get a call around noon or so letting me know they’re still playing D&D or going to ride bikes.” He inhaled on the cigarette again. “Or that she and Mike are going to the movies or something.”

“In that case, I feel pretty good about doing that again in the morning. Possibly the afternoon, depending on that phone call.” She put her hand on his chest, her fingers stroking the hair on it. “Now how about you finish that cigarette and get a little closer?”

He stubbed the butt out in the ashtray and rolled over, smiling as he put his arms around her. “I thought I already said I wasn’t ready for a repeat performance.”

“That’s all right,” she said, angling her face for a kiss. “I’m in the mood to take my time helping you out with that.”

“You learn that kind of diligence in the bureau?” He ran a hand down her back.

“Something like that.”

As it turned out, he didn’t need nearly as much time as he thought. But after a second round, they were both well and truly exhausted. Frankie fell asleep before he did, her back against his chest and his arm around her waist. It had been a long time since there was a woman in his bed like that; in the past, at least after Sara and his divorce from Diane, he tended to want his own space after sex. Even when the occasional one-night stand would stay over, he wasn’t exactly what you could call a cuddler. But he really didn’t feel like letting Frankie go. The weight of her in his bed wasn’t foreign or irritating. It was relaxing, even comfortable. It felt... good. “Getting soft in my old age,” he muttered aloud.

She shifted and made a sleepy sound. “What?” she half-yawned.

“Nothing.” He kissed the side of her face and lay his head on the pillow beside her, closing his eyes. “Go back to sleep.”

“‘Kay,” she murmured. “Night, Chief.”

“Sweet dreams, Agent.”

Hopper woke a few hours later, convinced he’d heard something. There was no one in bed beside him. He sighed, reaching for his cigarettes. God knows he’d crept out of his share of beds in the middle of the night. 

Just as he was about to light up, he heard something outside. He sat up, listening. It sounded like a woman laughing. “What the hell..” He put down the cigarette, grabbed his bathrobe and put it on as he went to the front door to check.

It was Frankie. She was outside on the porch, wrapped in a blanket and leaning on the railing. He walked out and stood behind her, his hands on her hips. “What are you doing out here?”

She pointed to the yard. “Fireflies.”

“Yeah, I see that.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“I woke up to use the bathroom and noticed them outside. I grew up out west; we didn’t have them there. And where I am in Indianapolis, there’s too much light,” she explained. “I love them. I thought it was too late in the year for them.”

“Indian summer,” he said. “They’ll be gone soon, though. Weather’s going to get colder next week. Come back to bed.”

“OK.” She turned to face him. “But only because you’re wearing that sexy bathrobe.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and led her back inside. “I’m taking it off when we get back in bed.”

“If I steal it, are you going to arrest me?”

“Yup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting smut is always nerve-wracking, so comments are extra loved this time. Thank you for reading!!!


	9. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after brings a surprise.

Hopper loved sleeping in on his days off, often lounging in bed until noon. He was up by 6:30 on weekdays, waking Ell by seven and getting both of them fed and ready to go about their respective days. But the weekends were different. Ell liked her sleep too--one of the advantages of having a teenager--and often she stayed at either the Byers’ place or at Max’s for one of the nights. Weekend mornings were for laying around, not getting dressed until is was absolutely necessary, and eventually making it to the couch for bad afternoon movies and a nap. If Ell was home, they’d have triple-decker Eggo extravaganzas. If she wasn’t, he’d have a lot of bacon. It was terrific. 

This was not that kind of morning. Judging by the sun coming in through the bedroom window, it was definitely before noon. But Hopper was not the least bit upset by that. The only reason he noticed the sun in the first place was because it was illuminating the body of the naked woman moving on top of him. Her skin was glowing with sweat and she was looking down at him with a soft smile on her face, and when he moved, she bit her lip and moaned his name. 

This beat sleeping in by a mile.

She collapsed onto his chest a few minutes later and rolled off to lay beside him. “Jesus,” she said, panting. “Good morning.”

“What was that, three times?” He was breathless and smiling.

“Four.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Fireflies.”

“Right,” he said. “Fireflies.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Everything,” he said. “You. Me. This. Christ, I haven’t fucked like this since I was in my 20s.”

She laughed with him. “Tell you what,” she said. “You get up and go make coffee, and I promise, there will be a whole lot more where that came from.”

He rolled onto his side to face her. “You’re trying to kill me.”

She stroked his face. “Can you think of a better way to go?”

He pretended to think for a minute. “Nope.” He put a hand on the back of her head and kissed her. “Coffee?”

She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm. “Please.”

“OK.” He got out of bed and headed for the kitchen, grabbing his bathrobe on the way out. “I’m taking this with me!” he called back over his shoulder. 

“Until I take it off you!” she yelled back, and Hopper laughed. It was going to be a fucking great Saturday. 

A short time later, they were on the porch with their coffee. Hopper was in his bathrobe; Frankie had opted for one of his flannel shirts. She was nearly a foot shorter than him; she could have belted the shirt and worn it a minidress. Hopper thought it was the sexy as hell and told her so. 

“I mean, it’s no blue bathrobe,” she said. 

He mock-scoffed. “Well, what is?”

She laughed. They were sitting on the porch bench and she had her legs draped over his lap. They talked work for a while, then she talked about growing up on the West Coast with her very Bohemian parents. “When I told them I was going to Quantico, you’d have thought I’d said I was going to the moon. In fact, the moon probably would have been better. More visionary.”

“They weren’t thrilled?” he asked. 

“They were scandalized,” she said. “How would they possibly tell their friends that their daughter was going to work for the government?” She smiled. “They got over it eventually. My father painted a motif of my first badge in a series of paintings. They sold very well.”

“Where are they now?”

She looked down, into her cup of coffee. “Gone,” she said quietly. “Brain cancer took my dad. It was horrible. It took months. He just… faded. Momma didn’t last long after that. They had been together for more than 50 years. I took a leave from work and flew to Brussels when he got sick--that’s where they were living. I stayed almost nine months. Long enough to bury both my parents.”

Hopper took her hand and shook his head. “Fucking cancer.”

She nodded. “Fucking cancer. I figured you’d understand.”

“Right,” he said. “Background check.”

“Yeah.” They were both silent for a long moment, then she wiped her eyes and said, “Jesus, that got morose. Do you want to go bird watching or something?”

He laughed. “Not much of a bird watcher. We could get dressed and go get breakfast. Or lunch.”

“We could.” She put her cup down and scooted closer to him. “Or we could go back inside and build up a better appetite.”

Hopper put his cup down too and pulled her into his lap. “I told you you were trying to kill me.”

“Lies.” She smiled at him. “In fact, I have a very vested interest in keeping you alive.” 

“I like that better.” He kissed her, tasting the coffee on her tongue. Her skin was warm through his shirt and he liked the weight of her on his lap and the way she felt in his arms. The small, contented sounds she made while they kissed, the feeling of her nails lightly scraping his scalp as she ran her hands through his hair. He had his hand on her bare calf and he was moving it slowly up toward her thigh. 

“Dad?”

“Jesus!” They both jumped up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one this time, and more to come very soon! Please comment if you can :)


	10. Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught in thankfully not-quite-the-act. What is the father of a precocious telekinetic teen to do? Don't worry. El's got this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have been away for so long! It's been a rough half a year, with injuries including a broken finger, and then there was all the COVID crazy. But I am back now, and I hope you're still out there, wanting to read. 
> 
> Please see previous chapters for notes about canon divergence.

Standing at the foot of the porch stairs were his daughter, Max, Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington. He hadn’t heard the car drive up or the doors open. He pulled his bathrobe a little tighter around himself and Frankie moved to stand slightly behind him. “Hi, uh, hi, honey. What are you doing here?”

Ell walked up the steps. “I live here,” she said. “What are you doing?” She put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at both of them.

“I didn’t know you were getting home so early,” he said. “Or that you were bringing friends over.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You have a friend over.”

He narrowed his eyes at her attitude, then quickly realized he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on at that particular moment. “How about you take everyone inside and go to your room, and I’ll be there just a minute.”

“OK,” she said. “But just so you know, I’m leaving the door open a minimum of three inches.” She gave her father a haughty look and walked into the cabin, her friends following behind her. Max was trying very hard not to laugh, while Mike and Dustin were staring openly at Frankie. Steve Harrington, with a shit-eating grin on his face, walked past him and said, “Morning, Chief. Agent.”

“Shut it, Harrington,” Hopper growled. “Just get them in the damn house.”

Once the kids were inside, Hopper and Frankie looked at each other for a moment, then both burst out laughing. “I’m the parent,” he said. “So why do I feel like I just got caught doing something I shouldn’t have been doing?”

“I have no idea,” she said, still laughing. “Do you think we’re going to get grounded?”

“Maybe.” He picked up both their coffee cups. “Let’s go face the firing squad.”

“I think I should put some pants on first,” she said. 

“Yeah, you and me both.”

They went into the house to the bedroom. Hopper pulled on jeans and a tshirt as Frankie gathered her clothes and started to dress. When she got to her shirt, she said, “Umm, Jim, do you have a shirt I can borrow?” She held hers up. Most of the buttons were gone.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that.” He reached into a dresser drawer and found another tshirt, which he handed to her. He looked again at her blouse. “Jesus, I really did a number on that, didn’t I?”

She put on the shirt, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “You can make it up to me later. Should I sneak out the front door?”

Hopper smiled and shook his head. “We’re already caught. Might as well have some breakfast.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “You ok with this?”

She shrugged. “You’re a dad. It’s kind of a package deal. Are you ok with this?”

He scratched his head, feeling almost sheepish. “I think I am,” he said. “And honestly, that kinda surprises the hell out of me.”

She bit her bottom lip, then smiled. “Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.” They walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen.

Steve was already in there, leaning against the counter and having a cup of coffee. “Hey, Chief. So, uh, having a good morning?”

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut up?” Hopper picked up the coffee pot but it was empty. He shoved it at Steve. “Since you helped yourself, you can make more. Why are you still here?”

“Ell asked me to bring her home so she could drop off her stuff,” Steve explained as he made more coffee. “Everybody else just came along for the ride, since they want me to drop them off at Will’s later. I guess you didn’t tell her you had company.” Steve peeked around Hopper and waved. “Hi.”

Hopper rolled his eyes. “Coffee, Harrington. And make the lady a cup first. Ell! Come out here, please.”

Ell came to the kitchen, followed by her friends. They all stood there in a line, waiting for him to speak.

“OK,” Hopper said. “You all know Agent Stone.” The kids nodded and waved. “Well, for a couple of weeks, while she is staying in Hawkins, you’re probably going to see her around here.” He looked at his daughter. “If that’s ok with you.”

“What if it’s not?” she asked. 

“Then I’ll go back to my cabin, and your dad and I will just work together,” Frankie said.

Ell thought for a moment, then said, “OK,” and sat at the table next to Frankie. “Do you watch Family Ties?”

“When I can, yes,” Frankie said. “I work a lot at night, though, so I haven’t seen many episodes.”

“You can’t watch it here,” Ell explained. “I have to watch it at Max’s house because on Thursdays Dad watches Magnum P.I.. Do you watch that?”

“I’ve seen a few episodes.” Once again, Frankie was clearly charmed. 

“Well, then on Thursdays you can watch that with Dad or you can watch Family Ties with me and Max.” Ell looked at her friend.

Max nodded vigorously. “You are totally invited to watch TV at my house on Thursdays. Or at Mike’s house. Sometimes we watch it at Mike’s house.”

“I’d have to check with my mom…” Mike started, then Max stepped hard on his foot and he finished, “Sure, yeah, totally.”

Frankie chuckled. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

“I’m not done,” Ell said. She started ticking things off on her fingers, going over the rules of the house. “Eggos are for breakfast or dessert, not dinner. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation, and on weekdays I get the shower after Dad. Don’t leave dishes in the sink. Shoes stay outside if it’s muddy. Don’t ever, ever touch Dad’s gun.”

“Ell,” Hopper interrupted. “She’s not moving in. She’s just going to… be here sometimes.”

She looked at her father. “You said if anyone stays over, they have to follow all the rules of the house.” 

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? OK, carry on.”

“I’m done,” she said. She looked back at Frankie. “Those are the rules of the house. OK?”

Frankie nodded. “Absolutely.”

Ell smiled. “Cool.” She got up, walked over to her father to hug him and said, “We’re going to ride bikes. You said Max can stay over tonight, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I want you to call me when you’re ready to come home and I will pick you both up. We can have pizza tonight if you want.”

“OK, Dad. I love you.” She hugged him again.

Hopper kissed the top of her head. “Love you, too, kid. Now get everybody out of my house.” He looked at Steve, who had just handed Frankie a fresh mug of coffee. “Including Harrington.”

“You told me to come by to talk to you about Ell and geometry,” Steve said innocently. 

Hopper pointed to the door, where the kids were already filing out. “Get out, Harrington.”

Steve gave him a knowing look. “I got you, Chief. You, uh, enjoy your Saturday.” He gave Frankie a nod and a smile, and left. They heard him yelling at the kids not to scratch his car getting Ell’s bike into the trunk.

Frankie looked at Hopper. “I think I’ve been given permission to continue seeing you.”

“Yeah.” He sat at the table next to her. “My kid can be a little… precocious.”

“I think she’s fantastic,” Frankie said. “Her dad’s not too bad, either.”

“You know,” he said, leaning closer to her. “I hear he makes a hell of a breakfast in bed.”

“Does he?” She reached for his hand. 

He kissed her knuckles. “We’ve got the place to ourselves again,” he said. “You want to go out or stay in? Whatever you want to do.”

“I haven’t had breakfast in bed in a long time.”

Hopper got up and pulled her up with him. He kissed her softly and said, “Take your coffee in the bedroom. I’ll get breakfast.” He kissed her again. “And, listen. Thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Chief.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Desperately missing your comments and concrit. Hope you enjoy!!


	11. Questions and Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El and Max have questions. Hopper has answers. Sort of. But teenagers are curious creatures, especially when one of them has unusual powers.

It was one of the best Saturdays Hopper could remember. He and Frankie spent most of the day in bed, only getting out of it once or twice to watch TV in the living room and make food. The sun had gone down before they finally showered and dressed, just in time for the phone to ring. It was Ell, asking to be picked up from the Wheelers so she and Max could begin their sleepover. Frankie agreed to come along for the ride; Hopper would drop her at her cabin after they picked up the girls. 

Ell and Max were thrilled to have Frankie in the car. They regaled her with stories of the day’s adventures, which included Lucas trying to impress Max by trying to jump a small stream on her skateboard. He didn’t stick the landing, which explained the large bandage Hopper and Frankie noticed on his arm when he waved goodbye from his bike. Max shrugged it off. “He’s cute but sometimes he’s really stupid.”

“That’s a common trait of most men,” Frankie said. 

“Excuse me?” Hopper asked. When the girls and Frankie laughed, he said, “Three against one, huh?” and then laughed with them.

When they got to Frankie’s cabin, Hopper told the girls to wait in the car while he walked Frankie inside. After a few minutes, Max said, “So, is she your dad’s girlfriend now?”

Ell thought for a minute. “I don’t know. He didn’t say that, and friends don’t lie.”

“But we saw them kissing,” Max pointed out. “And your dad said she was going to be around your house a lot.”

“He didn’t say a lot,” Ell corrected.

Max gave her the worldly look of a 13-year old best friend. “It was implied.”

Ell look confused. “What’s ‘implied’?”

“It’s like saying something without actually saying it,” Max explained. “Like, ok, so when we got to your house, they were kissing on your porch and she was sitting on his lap, and they both went into his room to get dressed, and when we left, she was still there.” Max paused for effect. “I totally think she’s his girlfriend.”

Ell was a bit wide-eyed. “Should I ask him?”

“He’ll just avoid the question, “Max said. 

Now Ell shrugged. “That means yes.”

Hopper came back to the car, whistling somewhat tunelessly but with a smile on his face. He got in and started the Blazer back up. “So, ladies,” he said. “Pizza?”

“Is Frankie your girlfriend?” Ell asked.

Hopper gave himself a second before answering. It wasn’t that he was surprised by the question, exactly. He had a feeling it was coming. But this was one of those gray areas that was hard to explain to Ell. “Not exactly.”

Ell looked a little confused. “But you were kissing her.”

Hopper turned out of Frankie’s driveway. “Yeah, I was,” he said. 

“And she slept over.” That was Max. 

Shit. “Yeah,” he admitted. “She did.”

“On television, when adults sleep over, it’s because they’re in a relationship,” Ell said. “Or because they’re having an affair. Are you having an affair with Frankie?”

“What? No!” Hopper exclaimed. “Maybe you shouldn’t watch soap operas anymore.”

“So you’re in a relationship.”

“We’re… seeing each other,” he said. “That’s something that adults do so they can decide if they want to be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?” That question came from Max. 

“I… I mean, I’ve only known her for a little while…” This conversation was not going his way.

“But you let her sleep over.” Now it was his daughter again. “I’m not allowed to sleep over at Mike’s house.” 

“No, you’re not,” Hopper said. “This is one of those things that is ok for adults but not ok for kids. Sometimes adults stay over at each other’s houses, because they’re adults.”

“So I can stay at Mike’s when I’m an adult?” his daughter asked.

“Let’s talk about that when you’re an adult, kid. Now, do you want pizza or not?” He really wanted to change the subject. “Or do you want to go home and have Eggo Extravaganzas?”

“You said those aren’t for dinner,” Ell pointed out. 

‘I know I said that.” But I’m also not above bribing my kid so I can get out of this conversation. “It’s the weekend. Sometimes we can relax the rules on the weekend.”

Ell smiled. “Bitchin’.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Totally bitchin.’”

After the Eggo Extravaganzas, the girls retired to Ell’s room while Hopper cleaned up dinner and watched TV on the couch. When the girls went to get something to drink around 9 o’clock, he was snoring in his armchair.

The girl spent some time listening to music, playing with Ell’s small stash of makeup, and discussing their latest Hollywood crushes. They radioed the boys for a while, but quickly got bored with arguing over who had a better jet, Batman or Wonder Woman.

Max was on Ell’s bed, painting her nails neon pink. “I wonder what Frankie is doing right now.”

Ell, who was sitting on the floor and paging through the latest issue of Tiger Beat, looked at her friend. “I don’t know,” she said. “Frankie said she works a lot at night. Maybe she’s working.”

“Maybe.” Max flopped onto her stomach on Ell’s bed. She blew on her nails, then said in a casual voice, “But maybe she’s working on some kind of super secret case.”

Ell’s eyes widened. “Do you think so?”

“She said at Career Day that she wasn’t always allowed to talk about the cases she’s working on.” Max clambered down to the floor to sit across from Ell. “What if she’s working on something about Hawkins, something super dangerous and bad?”

Ell’s eyes got even wider. “What if she’s in trouble?”

Max nodded. “What if she needs help?” 

Both girls turned their heads and looked at Ell’s small boombox, a black blindfold draped over it. They looked once again at each other.

Max moved first, grabbing the boombox and tossing Ell the blindfold. “I’ll find the static.”

Ell tied the blindfold around her head. “If I see something bad, you get on the walkie and I’ll wake Dad.”

The white noise filled the air and Ell felt herself going into the Void. The black floor was wet beneath her bare feet and she heard the sounds of a forest around her. Guided by nothing other than intuition, she walked forward in a straight line, toward some vague, treelike shapes in the distance. There was something on the ground, between the trees. Someone... 

Ell tore the blindfold off. Her nose was bleeding and she was breathing hard. She jumped up, stumbled to her feet and ran out of her room to her father, Max close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger! Conceit and comments are life. I promise the next chapter by mid-week.


	12. A Fall in the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they find under the tree, and what needs to be done about it. This chapter includes some grumpy Hopper and a visit by Doc Owens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See previous chapters for canon divergence info.

Ell shook Hopper hard. “Dad! Dad, wake up. Wake up!”

Hopper awake with a start. “What? What is it?” He blinked sleep out of his eyes and saw his daughter’s frantic face and bloody nose. He was alert in an instant, grabbing her by the arms. “Ell, honey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Frankie’s hurt.”

‘What?” He got up, gently leading Ell to the couch and crouching in front of her. “What are you talking about?”

Max started talking first. “We were talking about Frankie and we were wondering what she was doing, like if maybe she was working on a secret case or something, and so we got the radio and Ell’s blindfold…”

Ell interrupted her friend. “So I went to look for her to see and I was in the woods and she’s on the ground, Dad, under the trees, and she wasn’t moving and her eyes were closed…”

Hopper got up immediately. He put on his boots and coat, then grabbed the belt with his service revolver and radio. He grabbed a portable lantern as well. “You two, stay here. Do not open this door until you know it’s me, understand?”

Both girls nodded. They looked scared and small. He took a deep breath and spoke in a calmer voice. “Ell, where in the woods? Do you know?” 

“By the broken tree,” she said. “The one I hid in that one time.”

Hopper knew exactly what she meant. There was an old maple stump in the woods about a quarter mile from their house. The center was hollow, and Ell had hidden in it the winter she came to live with him. She showed it to him when they went hiking one day. “By the rock pile?”

She nodded, then grabbed his arm. “Daddy, she…”

Hopper put his hand on her face. “Will be fine.” He didn’t know that. Of course he didn’t know that. But right now he had two terrified 13-year old girls, one of whom had psychic powers that tended to go out of control when she got upset. Hopper extended his arm to Max; when she came to him, he sat her on the couch next to Ell. “Stay here,” he said again. “Lock the door after I leave.” He put his hand on his radio. “I will call you as soon as I find her. OK?” The girls nodded again and he walked out of the cabin.

He found her in a little under 15 minutes. She was on the ground, exactly where Ell said. There was a lit flashlight beside her. Hopper knelt on the ground and felt her neck for a pulse. It was strong; he let out a long breath. He took off his coat and draped it over her; she was wearing her running clothes. “Because running in unfamiliar woods at night is a great idea,” he muttered to himself. He tapped her face gently. “Frankie. C’mon, wake up. Frankie!”

Her eyelids fluttered. “Jim? How did you...”

“Don’t worry about that.” He used her flashlight to check her eyes. “Follow the light, then tell me your name.” 

“Frances Colette Stone and that thing is bright as hell.” She put her hand up in front of her eyes. “I’m in the woods between my cabin and yours. The president is Ronald Reagan. It’s September 28, 1984. I don’t have a concussion and how the hell did you find me?”

“The girls thought they heard something in the woods.” The lie came easily. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to do something like this to keep Ell’s secret. “I went out to check on it and saw the light. Can you stand?”

“No,” she said. “My ankle. It got caught and I fell. Must have hit my head.”

Hopper put his arm under her shoulders and lifted her gently. WIth his other hand, he felt around her head. There was a sticky lump on the left side of her skull. “Yeah, you did. Any idea how long you’ve been out here?”

She blinked hard a few times, trying to clear her head. “You left with the girls. I had some food. Got restless around 9:30 so I got dressed to run. I guess I left my place about 945 or so.”

He looked at his watch. It was almost 10:15. She hadn’t been out here long, thank God. “We can talk about how stupid that was once I know you’re all right,” he said. He reached for the radio on his belt. “Ell, it’s Dad. Over.” 

“Dad!” Her voice crackled in response immediately. “Are you OK? Did you…”

He interrupted quickly. “It’s ok, honey. It’s nothing bad. It’s just Frankie. She fell and hurt herself, but she’s ok. I’m bringing her back to the cabin. Get the first aid kit, a bowl of warm water and some washcloths, and the ice packs from the freezer.”

“Copy that.” The radio went silent. 

Hopper helped Frankie stand. “Slowly,” he said, his arm around her waist.

“I know,” she snapped. “I’m a goddamned FB…” She swooned. 

He caught her easily; he’d figured that was going to happen. Hopper lifted her in his arms and carried her back to the cabin. 

The door opened as soon as he made it to the porch and Max and Ell ran out. Before they could start talking, Hopper said, “I told you two to stay inside and not open the door. Move, please.” They did. 

He lay Frankie on the couch. He touched her face. “Wake up, Agent.”

She opened her eyes. “Hi, Chief.” She winced when she tried to move her head. “That doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s not,” he said. He wet a washcloth in the warm water and wrung it out, then put it on her head where he’d felt the bump. She winced again; the washcloth came away bloody. 

Both girls made sounds of distress. “It’s ok,” Hopper said. “She fell and hit her head but she’s going to be fine.”

Frankie reached out an arm. “I’m all right, ladies.”

Ell grabbed her hand and knelt on the floor, Max right beside her. “What happened?” Ell asked.

“I went out into the woods at night, and I tripped over a tree root and fell,” Frankie explained. “I must have hit my head because I blacked out and the next thing I knew, your dad was there.”

“Why don’t you tell them why you were in the woods at night?” Hopper said casually. He was still trying to gently clean the side of her head.

She gave him a look, which he completely ignored. “Well, right now I’d have to say it was because I was stupid.”

“Uh huh.” He threw the washcloth into the bowl and picked up an icepack. “Ell, what’s the most important house rule?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ell said. “I forgot to tell you that one.”

Frankie managed a weak smile. “That’s ok. I really should have known that one already.”

“Yeah, you should have.” Hopper put one of the icepacks on the side of her head. “Let me take a look at that ankle.” It was already badly swollen and starting to bruise. “This is gonna hurt,” he said. He untied her sneaker completely, removing the laces so he could open the shoe as much as possible in order to get it off her foot. Then he took a pair of bandage scissors and cut her sock; he knew it would be too painful to try and pull it off her foot. He let out a slow whistle. “Ellie, bring me the phone, please. Max, go into the closet by the bathroom and get me the cushions that are in there.” They were for the chairs outside, but they’d work to help keep Frankie’s leg elevated. 

Ell brought him the phone receiver while Max fetched the pillows. “Who should I call?” she asked.

“Dial Sam for me, please.” She ran back into the kitchen to dial; the call connected after only a few rings. “Doc, it’s Jim Hopper…. Yeah, I know exactly what time it is and I need you to come to the cabin.... No, she’s fine… I’m fine, too, but we have a houseguest who’s had a little accident… Yes, tonight… Yes, now… Yeah, I do… See you in half an hour.” He handed the phone to Ell, who hung it up.

“Who was that?” Frankie asked.

“Family friend,” Hopper said. Max had brought the cushions and he was putting them under Frankie’s ankle in order to elevate her leg. “Your ankle is bad. It needs to be looked at. I figured you’d rather do that here instead of going to the ER.”

“It’s not broken,” she insisted. 

He put another icepack on her ankle, then moved up to the other end of the couch so he could look her in the eyes. “It needs to be looked at,” he said again, taking her hand. “I am going to get you a blanket and some aspirin. OK?”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” He stood up. “Ell, Max, you’re on nurse duty.”

Hopper went into his bedroom. He put the radio and his gun on the nightstand and sat on the bed. In the past 30 minutes, he’d switched back and forth from worried father to cop and back again about four times. He needed five minutes to breathe. Frankie was fine, would be fine once the doc confirmed what Hopper suspected was a severe ankle sprain. His police training had kicked in when he saw her on the ground—check for pulse, check for breathing, check pupils once the injured person was conscious, move them once you were certain they could be moved. Now she was on his couch, under the watchful eye of his daughter and her friend, and the doctor was on his way. 

Hopper took a deep breath, then another. He changed into sweatpants since the knees of his jeans were now damp and dirty from kneeling in the woods. He grabbed a flannel from a hook on the wall, pulled a blanket off the bed and went back to the living room. 

Ell and Max were sitting on the floor by Frankie. A glass of water and the bottle of aspirin were already on the coffee table. Ell looked up when he came in. “Two aspirin,” she said. 

“Good.” He handed Frankie the flannel. When she gave him a confused look, he said, “Your clothes are covered in dirt and pine needles. You need to change. Do you need help or can you manage?”

“I can manage.”

Hopper held up the blanket to give her some privacy; when she was done, he tucked it around her. “You ok?” he asked. “Are you nauseous at all?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Hell of a headache and the ankle is throbbing, and I’m tired.”

“Doc’ll be here soon.”

“Then you’ll take me back to the cabin?” she asked. 

“No,” Hopper said. “You can’t put any weight on the ankle, which means you can’t walk. You can’t be alone in a cabin in the middle of the woods if you can’t walk.”

“What am I supposed…” she began. 

He interrupted her by looking over at Ell and Max. “Can you two please go to your room for a minute? I need to speak with Frankie alone.” The girls nodded and went to Ell’s room.

He waited until he heard the door close, then turned back to Frankie. “You’re staying here.”

She crossed her arms. “Just because we slept together doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do. I am a grown woman who…”

“Went running, in the dark, by herself, in unfamiliar woods and damn near broke her ankle. If Ell hadn’t...” He stopped for a second, pinched the bridge of his nose and continued. “If the girls hadn’t heard something and I hadn’t gone out to check, you’d have been out there all night, getting hypothermia until you managed to literally drag yourself a quarter of a goddamn mile back to your cabin.”

“I would have come here, since it’s closer,” she snapped.

“Great, thanks for making my point for me,” he said. “You would have come here because you would have known you needed help. Here, where there is someone to help you, as opposed to your cabin where there is no one.”

“I don’t need…”

“Yes, Frankie, yes, you do.” His tone was sharp and he knew he was taking a hell of a chance, talking to her in that tone. But for Christ’s sake, what had she been thinking? “You can’t walk. Even if, by some miracle, it’s only a minor sprain, you’re going to need to keep it elevated with no weight on it for a couple of days before you can think about crutches. And since it’s your right ankle, you can’t drive. You have a cut on your head and there’s gonna be a hell of a goose egg by morning, which means you’re going to have a headache and dizziness. You could fall, again, and end up hurting yourself even worse. You are going to stay here, with me, because I care about you and I don’t want anything else to happen. OK?”

She opened her mouth to respond, closed it again, then let out her breath in a huff. “I.. I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

Honestly, neither did Hopper. That last bit just kinda fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. He crouched next to her and took her hand. “Agreeing with me would be a start,” he said, his tone soft now. “I get it. You’re independent as hell and we’ve only known each other for a few days. But you’re not an idiot. You can’t be on your own with an injury like this.” He sighed. “Look, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch,” she said. “But you have a kid, Jim. How are you going to explain this to her?”

“How am I going to explain that her new favorite person has to stay here for a while? Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” 

“In her father’s bedroom?” she asked. 

“I will talk to her.” He kissed her hand, holding it in both of his. “OK?”

She nodded. “OK.”

“Thank you.” He leaned forward to kiss her. “Girls!” he called. “You can come out now.”

They did. They were both bouncing with excitement. Hopper rolled his eyes. “You were both listening at the door, weren’t you?”

“You were loud,” Ell said. 

Hopper stood up. “Yeah, ok, I guess we were a little loud. And I guess you already heard everything we said?” They nodded. “In the future, you are not to listen in on adult conversations, understand?” More nodding. He sighed, knowing this battle was lost. “Go ahead.”

They were next to Frankie in a split second, both chattering excitedly as they assured her of all the things they would help with while she was recuperating. Hopper let them go on for a while. He was just about to tell them to stop because Frankie needed her rest when there was a knock at the door. “Thank god,” he muttered as he went to open it. 

Dr. Sam Owens entered the cabin. “Chief-o,” he said, shouldering past him toward the couch. “So this is why you got me out of bed at 10:30 on a Saturday night. Hello, I’m Dr. Owens.” He looked her up and down. “And you appear to have done quite a number on your ankle.”

“Frankie Stone,” she said. “And yes.”

“She also knocked herself out,” Hopper said. “No sign of concussion.”

“You called me over here, so how about you let me see about that?” Owens said. “Why don’t you take the girls to the kitchen and get them some ice cream and me a cup of coffee?”

Ell and Max each shot the doctor a nasty look and proceeded to sit down together on Hopper’s armchair. Owens looked at Hopper, who held up his hands as if to say, You can try telling them.

“Or not.” Owens turned back to Frankie. “Clearly, you’ve been in very good hands. Let’s start with the bump on your head. How long were you unconscious?”

“Not long,” she said. “I came to pretty quick, but my head was pounding and I think I fell asleep.”

“She woke up as soon as I touched her face,” Hopper said. “Pupils were fine, pulse and breathing were fine. She fainted when she tried to stand up.”

“Sometimes a rush of blood to the head will do that,” Owens said as he carefully probed the lump on her head. “Lean forward for me.” She did and he used his penlight for a closer look. “Superficial wound. There’s some dirt in it but otherwise, nothing to worry about. I don’t think I am going to be able to say the same for your ankle, but let’s have a look.”

Owens moved the cushions and sat down, holding up Frankie’s leg. “This is not going to feel good.”

Frankie nodded.”Do your worst, doc.”

Before he began, Owens shot a significant look at Hopper, who moved close to Ell. He leant down to his daughter. “This is going to hurt her, but that’s the only way Doctor Owens can figure out how bad the sprain is. Don’t get upset, ok?”

“What’s a sprain?” she asked, taking her father’s hand.

“A sprain, young lady, is what happens when you bend a joint in your body in a way it is not supposed to bend.” As he spoke, he carefully manipulated Frankie’s ankle, noting her pained expressions. “A minor sprain usually gets better in a week or two. A major sprain can take a lot longer than that and some people need surgery to fix it. Ms. Stone, did you feel or hear anything pop or tear when you hurt your ankle?”

Frankie shook her head. She was gripping the couch cushions and gritting her teeth. “No cracking either. I could move it, even though it hurt like hell, so I knew it wasn’t broken.”

“Correct,” Owens said. “Though I can’t necessarily rule out a hairline fracture. Flex your foot for me, please. First down, then up.”

Frankie managed both movements, but not without letting out a little cry of pain. Ell squeezed her father’s hand. “It’s ok, honey,” Hopper assured her.

“I do believe it is,” Owens said. He felt around Frankie’s ankle and along her calf for a few more minutes. “The good news is the Achilles tendon isn’t ruptured. The bad news is that this is a pretty serious sprain. You’re going to need to rest it completely for at least a few days, with ice for the swelling and a compression bandage. You can get up for the bathroom, of course, but nothing else for 72 hours. After that, you’ll stay on crutches for a few weeks, maybe a month. I will come back to check on you in three weeks. Until then, no weight on the ankle. No driving. If the swelling or the pain gets worse, you call me and we schedule an x-ray.”

“I know the drill,” Frankie said. “R.I.C.E.”

Ell and Max both looked at Hopper, who said, “Rest, ice, compression, elevation. R-I-C-E. It’s an acronym, a word made from the first letters of other words.”

“Like FBI?” Ell asked. 

Hopper smiled at her. “Yeah, honey. Just like that.”

“R.I.C.E will make her better?” 

“Yes, it will, Miss Hopper,” Owens said. He saw the first-aid kid on the table and opened it. “Aha, just what we need.”

Owens wrapped Frankie’s ankle with an ACE bandage, then placed two icepacks around it on the cushions. He stood up and reached out to shake her hand. “Remember, you call me if anything gets worse. Do you want a prescription for the pain?” When she declined, he turned to look at Hopper. “Anything else or can I go home now?”

“All set, Doc. Thanks for coming out.” Hopper let go of Ell’s hand. “You go take care of Frankie. I”m gonna walk the Doc out, ok?”

Hopper lit a cigarette as soon as they were on the porch. “Thanks for coming out, Sam.”

“You’re welcome. I have crutches in the car.”

They retrieved the crutches and returned to the porch. “Jane looks good,” Owens said. “She doing well in school?”

Hopper exhaled a long plume of smoke. “She’s doing great. Like a regular kid.”

Owens nodded. “And the non-regular kid stuff?”

“So far, so good.” He looked at Owens through the cigarette smoke. “She found Frankie tonight. Did that thing she does with the white noise and the blindfold, and saw her in the woods. Wouldn’t have known she was out there otherwise.”

Owen nodded again, then smiled. “And who is Frankie? Since I assume she’s going to be staying in the same house as my favorite telekinetic teenager for the next few weeks.” 

“FBI Agent,” Hopper said. “She came into town a couple of days ago, to do some training for the department. Ell invited her to Career Day.”

“And you invited her out after Career Day?” Owens asked.

“Actually, she invited me,” Hopper smiled, exhaling smoke again. 

Owens looked into the cabin window. Ell was sitting on the edge of the couch, holding Frankie’s hand and talking animatedly. “Your daughter looks enamoured.” He looked back at Hopper. “And you, Chief-O?”

“This part of your MD, Sam?” Hopper asked, stubbing the cigarette out in the nearby ashtray.

“PhD, actually. I have a couple of those too.” Owens patted him on the arm. “She’s a very attractive woman, Jim. Everything doesn’t have to be about being a father. It’s ok to still be a man. Have a good night. You call me if you need me.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” The two men shook hands and Hopper went back into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a trope. But they can be fun to play with. Please comment! Also if anyone would mind letting me bounce some plot thoughts off them, please let me know!


	13. Unexpected Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One could say that Frankie has really fallen for Hopp - HA! (couldn't resist). The unexpected twist of her ankle has certainly led to an unexpected twist in their brand-new relationship. But the unexpected is to be expected in Hawkins, and even the Chief of Police can't predict everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long -- I've been busy moving into my new house!! I promise to keep things moving at a more regular pace now that all the boxes are unpacked and things are where they belong.

“OK, excitement over,” he said as he walked in and put down the crutches. He turned to lock the door, then turned back to the three people in the living room. “Time for Frankie to get some rest.”

“Could we maybe get all the blood out of my hair?” Frankie asked. She sounded tired.

Ell jumped up. “I have shampoo. It smells like strawberries. I’ll get…”

“You’ll get in bed,” Hopper interjected. “It is time for bed. I will take care of Frankie.”

“But, Dad..” 

“‘But Dad’ nothing,” he said. “You will see her in the morning. You can make her breakfast in bed. Now go.”

Ell patted Frankie’s hand. “I will make you Eggos.” She leaned forward and kissed Frankie on top of her head, then ran to her father for a hug.

Hopper squeezed her tight. “Goodnight, kiddo.” The girls ran to Ell’s room.

Frankie looked at Hopper. “Eggos?”

“They’re her favorite.” He crouched beside the couch. “She must really like you.”

She reached out to touch his face. “I didn’t mean to scare her.”

“Yeah?” He took her hand and kissed it. “She wasn’t the only one. Let’s get you cleaned up so I can put you in bed where I can keep an eye on you.”

Hopper picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, where he ran her a bath. He carefully washed her hair and rinsed it until there wasn’t a trace of pink in the water, despite her protestations that it wasn’t her arms that were sprained. “I thought women liked being pampered,” he teased. “I see that smile on your face. Don’t try to tell me you’re not enjoying this.” 

“I could get used to this.” She leaned back into his touch as he gently towel-dried her hair. 

“I could have a hell of a career as a hair washer if this whole chief of police thing falls through.” He reached into the water to pull the tub drain. “Out of the tub, Agent.”

“You’re going to get soaked,” she said.

“Easy solution to that.” He pulled off his shirt then lifted her out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her so he could carry her to the bed. 

She dried off while he put pillows from the couch under the covers for her ankle. She put on one of his tshirts while he stripped down to his boxers, then he helped her into the bed before joining her. As soon as she was properly situated, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. “No more night running,” he said. 

“No more running at all for a while.” She nestled in close. “Are you sure this is all right?”

“We already talked about this, Frankie.” He stroked her arm. “You can’t be in the cabin alone. You need help.”

“I could call for a car, go back to Indianapolis.”

Hopper’s brow furrowed. “Do you… do you not want to stay here? Is that it?”

“It’s not that,” she said. “It’s just, I mean, we met four days ago. I doubt you were signing on for a roommate when you kissed me in the bar parking lot.”

“OK, look,” he said. “I am about to say something that may make me sound like an asshole on a couple of different levels. Before Ell, I kinda got around.”

She smirked at him. “Yeah, I picked up on that when four women cornered me in the ladies room to ask me how I met you and how I got you to go out and also how I must be new in town because they didn’t think there was anyone left in Hawkins that you hadn’t gotten to.” 

“As I said, asshole,” he admitted. “But the thing is, and probably the reason most of those women might not piss on me if I was on fire, nothing ever lasted past a night. And I didn’t want it to. If I had, then I would have thought about starting something up again and maybe introducing one of them to my daughter. But I didn’t. Yeah, ok, we met four days ago, and now you’re gonna stay here for a while with me, and with my kid, who adores you even though she only met you three days ago. Personally, I think that makes her a pretty damn good judge of character.” He leaned up on one elbow so he could look at her. “So, no, I didn’t have any clue this was going to happen when I kissed you in the parking lot, but now it has and you’re asking me if I’m sure this is all right? Honestly, it’s scary as shit and I don’t really know what I’m doing, but yeah, it’s fucking all right. I want you here, safe, with me. Is that all right?”

“You know, Chief, if that whole cop thing and hair washer thing doesn’t work, I think you could make a real living writing romantic comedies,” she said with a smile. 

“Is that a yes, Agent?”

“Maybe,” she teased, pulling him down for a kiss. “Tell me about the love scene.”

“Well, now that’s where the R-rating for this movie really comes into play.” He kissed her deeply and slid a hand beneath the shirt she was wearing. “How about you get this off so I can explain in more detail?” 

She was happy to oblige. “That reminds me, you’re going to have to go to the cabin and get me some clothes tomorrow.”

“Uh huh,” he said, his mouth against the skin of her neck. “I’m really not all that concerned about getting you more clothes right now.”

“I thought you were worried about my ankle.” She was running her hands through his hair.

“Very worried.” The hand that had been on her hip was now moving slowly up her inner thigh. “Which is why I am going to do things very, very slowly and carefully.”

“I really like the sound of that,” she murmured. “Maybe you could start by… Oh, fuck, that’s a good place to start.”

His hand was between her legs and he brought his head back up to kiss her again. “That place?” he asked, moving his fingers. “Or that place?”

Frankie gasped loudly, slapping her own hand over her mouth just a second too late. 

“Dad?” Ell’s slightly frantic voice came from across the hall. “Is everything ok? I thought I heard something. Is Frankie ok?”

“Everything is fine, honey,” Hopper called. “Go back to sleep.” 

Frankie had her head against his chest, trying to muffle her laughter. “Not that I wasn’t appreciative of where things were heading,” she said quietly. “But I think the moment has now passed.”

“I’m buying a bedroom door tomorrow,” he said, also laughing quietly. He found where she’d dropped her tshirt and handed it back to her. Once she had it on, he lay on his side, putting one arm under her shoulders and moving in close. He breathed in the scent of her hair. “Wake me if you need anything, Agent” 

She reached for his hand. “10-4, Chief.”  
***  
Hopper was awakened by the sound of someone knocking at the door. “What the fuck…” he mumbled. He looked at the clock by the bed -- 9am. He groaned.

Frankie stirred next to him. “What is that?”

“Somebody who wants to get shot,” he said. He kissed her shoulder. “Stay here. I will get rid of whoever it is.”

Hopper got out of bed and put on his bathrobe. Ell’s bedroom door was closed when he walked past it, so he figured the girls were still asleep. He rubbed a hand over his face as the knocking came again. “Yeah, I hear you! Hang on!”

He opened the door, ready to cuss out whoever was on the other side of it. 

“Morning, Hopp!” came the bright voice of Joyce Byers. She was standing on his porch, accompanied by Bob and Will. All three of them were holding bags. She didn’t offer him the opportunity to invite them in; she simply pushed past him and headed straight for the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joyce Byers is the absolute best, isn't she? 
> 
> This is just a long and silly little romance story, and I am over the moon that people seem to like it, so there will be more to come. Please comment, leave kudos, and send a writer some love -- it's the fuel that keeps me writing,


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